The Prince
by Neverending Odyssey
Summary: He is not a saint. He is not God. Even his sense of justice is skewed. After all, how can Kira rationalize his use of the Death Note when he himself is nothing but a common criminal? A member of the yakuza? LxRaito, AU.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: This is _fanfiction_. What do you expect?

**Summary**: "Without doubt princes become great when they overcome the difficulties and obstacles by which they are confronted".

He is not a saint. He is not God. Even his sense of justice is skewed. After all, how can Kira rationalize his use of the Death Note when he himself is nothing but a common criminal? A member of the yakuza? On the edge of despair, with his beliefs teetering precariously, Raito seeks redemption… but all he encounters is the dark hopelessness that is humanity. (AU)

**Pairing**: Probably LxRaito (if I manage it)

**Warning**: This story will contain slash, deaths (what else can you expect from this fandom) and rape. I don't really expect to follow the storyline, but there will still be spoilers. Also, be warned that Raito's character, although fundamentally the same, will still show some pretty stark changes. He has been raised under quite stressful and different circumstances (as you would see in the flashbacks).

It must also be noted that all quotes come from The Prince by Machiavelli. It is a political treatise written in the Renaissance advising princes to be ruthless in order to keep their power and protect the state. This is where the term 'Machiavellian' comes from. I'll be basing this story on many of its theories.

* * *

Prologue

* * *

_Without doubt princes become great when they overcome the difficulties and obstacles by which they are confronted, and therefore Fortune, especially when she desires to make a new prince great, who has a greater necessity to earn renown than an hereditary one, causes enemies to arise and form designs against him, in order that he may have the opportunity of overcoming them, and by them to mount higher, as by a ladder which his enemies have raised._

_**

* * *

**_

January 27th 1998

"… _A hold-up has taken place at… the suspect… believed to have two accomplices, escaped in a black Toyota… any infor – "_

Click.

"… _suicide at Chikoshi High School… seems to be another case of bullying… teachers advised to pay more attention…"_

Click.

"… _half price on all chocolate!"_

"Kaa-san?" A soft hesitant voice slipped in from the stairways, interrupting the annoying commercial jingle.

Glad for the disruption – the television could only offer so much distraction – yet somewhat dreading its cause, Yagami Sachiko turned to face her youngest child.

"When will nii-san come back?"

Maybe her only child now.

Sachiko bit her lower lip, unsure of how to respond. The seemingly innocent query was one she had put off for quite some time. To keep her daughter from the awful truth, she had lied – something she had never wished to do – and had kept diverting her attention. After all, how do you tell your eight-year-old that her precious older brother had been kidnapped? That he may never come back?

Even she had had trouble believing such a harsh reality. For her perfect family to be torn apart like this…

_No_, she shook her head. _It is useless to ponder on what-ifs. All will be fine._

It will be over tonight. All she had to do now was comfort her little girl one last time. One last lie. It won't hurt. And then, the truth will be kept hidden – her husband will surely agree that it'd be for the best. Raito, surely will want to forget the horrible experience. All will be back to normal.

Looking at her daughter's sweet figure, she knew that was the best decision. Standing on the bottom steps, dressed in her panda-patterned pyjamas, her small hand tightly clutched onto Raito-sama – the plush tiger her brother had gotten her for her sixth birthday (though he definitely had _not_ been pleased with how she had named it). Her little girl looked so young, so innocent, so fragile. Sachiko would do anything to shield her child from all that would try to tarnish her purity. She herself would have preferred to remain in blissful ignorance.

No, one last lie will not hurt. It will be over tonight anyway. It will be fine. Then, they would put this horrible experience behind them. It would be a new beginning.

But first, Sayu needed to be reassured. She was so confused, the poor dear. After all, one whole week had gone by already – the longest Raito had ever left home.

"Come here Sayu," she gently told her daughter, opening her arms wide.

Her tired smile barely hid her deep weariness and her stress, but the girl did not notice. She didn't hesitate before jumping into her embrace. The eight-year-old was simply so affectionate, never one to shy away from hugs and kisses. "Your nii-san…" Sachiko tried again. "Your tou-san is trying to, no… will bring him back tonight."

"So he'll be home then?"

Eyes big and wide with innocence, oh how she envied her daughter. No, she couldn't bring herself to destroy that yet… not when there was still hope.

The negotiations were taking place tonight according to Soichiro. It will go well. It will… it will…

She hugged her daughter tighter, ignoring the hum of the television.

"Good," the girl continued insouciantly, giving a slight nod of the head – as though in satisfaction –, "he promised to go skating with me, but then left and went to his friend's and didn't come back. 'Fraid he forgot about me…" Then, as though realising what she had just muttered, her voice crescendoed. "But nii-san never forgets a promise! Never!"

_No, of course not._ Sachiko smiled with pride at that thought. _Raito is too responsible and mature to ever go back on his word – unlike all those unruly little ruffians her neighbours have raised._

"I know dear… something just… came up. Now, why don't we go to bed?"

But Sayu was a stubborn child – always had been – and refused to get up from her position on the couch. "Don't wanna. Can't I wait for nii-san here? And tou-san! Don't wanna miss them. And plus," she finished off, mumbling, "I can't fall asleep. I miss nii-san too much… and I'm sure he misses me too!" Then, she stared fixedly at the television, her body wordlessly conveying, and quite effectively, her refusal to be parted from her position. Her eyes would not stray from the bright screen, where a young couple was arguing in the rain, even though she certainly had no interest in the current program (some sappy, entirely inappropriate and unrealistic sitcom).

Sachiko sighed. Tilting her daughter's chin up as she knelt down next to her, she looked into the miscreant's eyes, projecting an air of calm she was definitely not feeling. "Now now. How do you expect to have the energy to go to the arena tomorrow if you don't go to sleep? Nii-san wouldn't like that." _But he'll be happy all the same to be back home. _"And you wouldn't want to disappoint him would you now? After you've had this trip pushed back for such a long time…"

The eight-year-old shook her head.

"Come now. I'll read you a story before you go to sleep, 'kay?"

Grabbing her mother's hand with her own free one, the little girl reluctantly dragged her parent up towards the stairs. On the way up, she was suggesting titles, all the while praising the ones her brother preferred. He would always make his opinion quite clear at the end of every tale, harshly criticizing the plot and any clichés that had been used (not that Sayu really understood). Thus, it wasn't often that her kaa-san read her a story. It would be an interesting change, though still not as good as having her big brother undertake the duty as he had the best storytelling voice!

Sachiko could not help but reminisce as she tackled the fairytale her daughter persuaded her into reading. It had been so long since she had read a book out loud (the last time was when Raito had been no older than a toddler… no even before that). After she had given birth to Sayu, her little boy had taken on the duty of entertaining his sister (or, as he had said when he had first seen her, of turning that wailing baby into something intelligent). Oh, he doted on her, fulfilled her every whims and with such a loving, _perfect_ son, how could life be anything but perfect?

He was as bright as his name suggested: her very own little genius. At the age of five, she had discovered him devouring thick novels. Where he had learnt how to read, she would never know. And when he had started questioning them about their contents, it hadn't taken long before Raito's inquisitive ways managed to stump both her and Soichiro. He clearly understood what he had been reading.

Soon deeming the other books asinine, Raito had found his interest piqued by detective novels. The mysteries waiting to be solved had at first drawn him into their very pages. It had only lasted for a solid two years though. After going through the greatest their genre had to offer, her beloved son had given up on them. They were apparently too predictable.

Obviously, bestselling authors could not compare to her Raito in terms of cleverness. Seeking to direct his intelligence into more productive pursuits, she had suggested he turn his attention towards facts: textbooks, references and scholarly journals would help him advance in the world – not fictional universes.

He had complied, of course, and had excelled there as well; soaking up the knowledge like a sponge. All was simply so easy – so natural – for him that sometimes, she wondered how the world would ever accommodate itself to his tremendous potential.

But she did not doubt he would find his place and thrive while doing so. He was simply talented that way. Perfect in every way.

Unlike nerds who were unable to balance their brains with their social skills.

Her Raito never had any trouble in that regard. Ever since his most tender youth, he had been extremely astute in observing and interacting with others. His amazing people skills and charisma, coupled with his faultless manners, served only to draw children and adults alike towards him. He was a perfect gentleman and made friends wherever he went. His altruism only further endeared him in their eyes.

Where Sayu was a bright bundle of energy, Raito possessed a quiet grace and charm that unfailingly attracted everyone's attention.

Though her son's sharpness had at times frightened her, she had never let it matter. She, unlike her infinitely jealous neighbours, was the mother of Raito and it made her heart beat with pride. _She_ had the perfect son. _She _had the perfect family.

And now, it was all falling apart.

She didn't understand how it happened. Or more precisely, why it had to involve her precious Raito…

Yes, her husband worked for the NPA. Yes, it came with risks. She did fear for his life. But it had never involved the family before! And certainly not her innocent son!

One thing, for sure, she was glad her husband had refused to let her precious child help out with his cases – even though Raito had pleaded for the right. And had sulked about the rebuttal for a week.

Sachiko knew that things sometimes came too easily for him. That nothing truly held his interest as it wasn't challenging enough. Books, although interesting, could only offer so much, and no hobby could ever match his genius. During his childhood, he flitted from one pastime to the next, never finding one worthy of his talents.

They were either too simplistic or completely lacking in stimulation.

When he was six, she did what any mother with a child of the right disposition – meaning who had enough discipline and maturity to sit still and devote himself or herself to such an art – would do: she had him enrolled in piano lessons. Like anything, he had excelled in music. He understood the theory behind it quickly enough and learnt the notes in record time. In little more than a year, complicated pieces were being shaped under his skilful fingers' ministrations while his fellow students, who had started at the same time as he, or even _before_,still struggled with elementary exercises. Some couldn't even coordinate playing with two hands!

Yet, music was not for him and he left it soon enough. Though Raito had once mentioned that it was unable to engage his brains, Sachiko had rescinded his enrolment because of another factor. His teacher had been very agreeable at first, astounded that she had been conveyed the privilege of teaching a _prodigy_. She had not stayed that way however. She actually had had the gall to constantly criticize her son. She had accused him of lacking feelings when playing and had repeatedly complained that his music was too mechanical. As soon as Sachiko had gotten wind of this outrage, she had let her son abandon his studies with her full endorsement.

It certainly hadn't been her child's fault that his music lacked 'emotions'. As a matter of fact, she personally believed that for someone of Raito's age, passion did not come naturally yet and it was the _teacher's_ responsibility to lure it out.

Besides, someone who obviously couldn't appreciate her child's talent did not deserve the honour of nurturing it.

When it came to sports, Raito simply stuck to tennis. He stood out too much in any other. Though he was charismatic enough to lead his peers to victory – through both his skilful play and his inspiring words – team sports did not appeal to him as much as the lone battle that was tennis.

It was perhaps this mentality of his that had led to his brief stint in chess and shougi, which had not been a complete letdown. Although he had had a hard time finding challenging opponents his age, he still occasionally played – especially against Soichiro, who took great joy in pitting his wits against his brilliant son.

And of course, he held no interest in meaningless hobbies like videogames, manga and anime. Unlike all the youngsters his age, he was immune to their addictive influence.

Thus, sensing that these few occasional pastimes were hardly enough for him, she had enrolled him in enriched classes. He passed through with flying colors. He solved logic problems as though they were nothing and his teachers had nothing but praise for him – unlike that nasty piano teacher.

He thrived there and she knew his future was bright. How could it not be, for such a brilliant boy?

And then, he had asked to solve some real cases.

Where he had gotten such a ridiculous idea into his head, she had no idea. How could he believe himself to be competent enough to help adults, professionals? It may be because he loved solving problems so much. Since mystery novels held no mystery to him any longer, he may have thought his skills were good enough to be applied to real life.

Or maybe, Soichiro had more influence on him than she thought.

However, a young boy, _her_ son, had no business facing off against full-grown criminals.

And weren't his after school classes challenging enough? Those were _much_ more useful to his future.

Thus, he continued with his classes, continued cultivating his much cherished intelligence. The matter was never mentioned again. Instead, he had intensified his personal studies on the inner workings of computers and other types of technology, apparently fascinated by its parallel to the human brain.

Therefore, life had been perfect. With her perfect Raito, her sweet Sayu, and her dear husband, Soichiro.

It had been perfect.

And then, her husband had gotten in over his head with the yakuza, her son had been kidnapped, held hostage… and her life was crashing down around her.

She didn't know if everything could go back to normal – even with Raito back. She wasn't even sure if she could ever forgive Soichiro for his involvement. _But is it really his fault?_ Some part of her whispered.

Still… why would the yakuza want to keep an eleven – almost twelve-year-old? What would they do with him?

No. He will come back.

She just needed to think positive.

He will be back. And all will be fine.

Life will be perfect again.

"… and so they lived happily ever after."

Closing the small fairytale book, she placed it back onto the small bookshelf at the corner of her daughter's room. Looking down at Sayu's peaceful slumbering features, she knew all had to be fine. For her child's, no her children's sake, as well as her own.

After kissing the small forehead, she took a few cautious steps back, turned off the light and closed the door.

… _they lived happily ever after…_

Wasn't that how it ended? With such a perfect life, such a perfect family, how can it be torn apart so easily?

Back to her position on the couch, she stared at the flickering screen of the television again, waiting, waiting, waiting… for news.

"… _And I love you R –"_

Click.

"… _the robber's car crashed into a tree in Ueno park. Police is now…"_

All will be fine and perfect again.

* * *

Her husband finally returned home seven hours later.

Alone.

Her heart sank.

Shakily, she rose from her position on the couch and walked towards him. Soichiro would not look at her, unable to face her grief.

Yet, seeing him so _calm_, so _normal_, as he followed his routine (untying his laces, taking off his shoes, unwinding his scarf, taking it off…), she wanted to explode.

She wanted to scream at her husband, at his uselessness, his inability to fix his mistake, to patch this family back together. Yet, she was too numb to do so. It was not her place. As his wife, it wasn't really her place. It wouldn't be proper.

And he really did try his hardest. _Right?_

Slowly, cautiously, she backed up, to give him room, so that she was no longer blocking the entrance. After all, he had to get in, right? It was his house, right? _Right?_ She waited for his explanations.

Thankfully – but should she really be thankful to have her fears confirmed so quickly? To have her hopes dashed away? – she didn't have to wait long. Her husband was honest to a fault, taking his responsibilities to his heart and placing his honour above all else. He was not one to shirk his duty; he would not try to avoid explaining his failure. Even though he could not bear to meet her eyes.

As soon as his coat was hung, his voice – completely lacking its usual steady and authoritative quality – pierced the thick, tense silence.

"The Black Dragon Clan, they…" his tone faltered, "Although I ordered my men to stop the raids, they decided to keep holding Raito hostage as insurance. They refused to return him," he hesitated here, "and refused to let me administer any contact with him. I… will get a message every few months to confirm his continued well-being."

And that was all there was to it.

No hope. No son. It was over.

Her heart stopped.

No.

Raito…

"I… knowing I couldn't stay objective any longer, I requested a transfer out of the Organized Crime Department. I'll be working for the Serial Murders Investigative Forces now. I can't go… against the yakuza any longer. Not when they're holding…"

_Raito…_

And with that, he left her. Left her for an empty bedroom where she may not be able to join him.

Not when the pain was so fresh.

Not when Raito…

No. What would happen to her perfect son now? Now that he was surrounded by those _beasts_, that _filth_?

Her brilliant, brilliant son…

… gone.

And she broke down into sobs.

* * *

**A/N**: And that's it. The next update should be coming in some time since I'll be leaving to go up North soon. Anyway, Merry Christmas and hope you guys have a nice holiday.

_Edited 24/04/08_

**Edited 07/05/08 (Recipe for Insanity) **


	2. Of Morality and Necessity

Chapter 1

Of Morality and Necessity

* * *

_**February 28**__**th**__** 1998**_

He couldn't take it anymore.

"… quant aux verbes that are part of the second group, that finish in –IR, do you remember their accord?"

The young brunet gritted his teeth in annoyance and answered with a small "oui". He then proceeded to tune out the rest of his 'teacher's' babbling as he started working on the straightforward exercise sheet she had handed out to him earlier.

Learning new languages could be quite an ordeal for some, but for Raito Yagami, it was such a bore. He would easily acknowledge how interesting and how useful it could be – but only up to a certain point really. Languages only differed from each other until a particular extent. Human tongues were fundamentally the same, no matter how dissimilar the writing characters and grammar rules were.

Thus, you did not need to be a genius to become a linguist: only a very organised person with a great memory. And the preteen obviously possessed all these characteristics.

"Ah, très bien Raito." Talon-san's voice's sudden reappearance abruptly broke through his reverie. The woman had stopped talking when she _finally_ noticed he had started to work. "Je vois que tu te rappelles de ce que je t'ai enseigné."

_Yes, of course I remember so you do not need to repeat the same things every lesson_, he growled out mentally, as he wrote 'ennuie' after 'je m'(ennuyer)', giving the piece of paper an incredulous look: that little sentence perfectly reflected his bored mental state.

Really, did they have to be stuck on 'learning' the basics for a month?

Rudimentary sentences were composed of a verb, its subject and sometimes, a complement to complete the structure. It was the same for all languages. And although French verbs actually had quite complex tenses (unlike English and especially Japanese – whose verbs had no tense), once you understood its workings and learned all its exceptions, it became quite simple.

He was certain it would be the same for all the other complex grammar rules. Already, his vocabulary was expanding at an alarming rate, much to Talon-san's amazement.

The same held true in all his other studies, all in various languages. Yet, not one of his private tutors treated him differently or even taught him much at the rate they went at.

As he finished his assignment – giving it a quick glance over to check for possible mistakes (not that he would make any) – he handed her the sheet.

"Déjà? Tu as fini? Are you sure?" Came Talon-san's incredulous response. "These exercices are not as faciles as the last ones. Seeing that you understood my explanations so rapidement, I have incorporated a few pièges there. Maybe you should reread yourself. And if you have questions…"

"Non." Then, in an act of complete dismissal, he rested his chin on his hand and looked away, his free hand tapping his pencil on the table top, a clear sign of his impatience. Huffing, the old lady started correcting his assignment. She didn't bother hiding her indignation – and the preteen didn't bother to pretend to actually care.

Inside, he was boiling. Of course he would see through the traps. Even if she had not taught him the rules yet, it wasn't as though he wouldn't research them himself. There wasn't much for him to do on his own (_not on your own_, his mind traitorously reminded him, _you're never alone now, are you?_) besides reading and studying. In addition, he was not the type of person to completely rely on one person – on one source – in his attainment of knowledge.

That Talon-san actually believed that her student was able to comprehend all she said in French after such a short period – or guess her meaning – was thanks to her apparent conceit and ignorance.

Really, Raito sometimes could not believe how idiotic and blind his elders were. How can his teachers – no, all adults – underestimate him so much? He may be a child but he _was _much smarter than they. He was pretty sure they knew it subconsciously: _he_ was not too blind to notice the number of incredulous faces they made when he reminded them of pretty obvious facts.

That they would willingly embrace such a weakness always left him incredulous. Yet… he too had been blinded, no? He had been so certain of his own strength, of his own cunning… exposing his secrets when he should have kept his skills hidden. By underestimating them, he had forced them to see through their own weakness. _And then, Takamiya-sama found out about my true worth…_ he shuddered in reminiscence.

No, it was useless to dwell on that, on the past, when it was the present that mattered now.

"Cette fois, it is all bon, but it wouldn't always be the case, especially since it is going to become de plus en plus difficile. So be certain to ask me for help if you'll have de la difficulté. It's true that you are a petit génie, but personne is infaillible, non?"

She waited for a bit and seeing that he would not respond, she just started off on another subject. He ignored her (having already read about _passé composé_) and instead concentrated on forcing his involuntarily tense grip – the shameful result from his previous thoughts – on his pen to loosen.

No, it wouldn't do to show weakness, no matter how faint, and especially not in the presence of others. If he couldn't be in control here, in his room – _cage_, his mind whispered – how could he expect to face _them_ as an equal outside?

His pride was all he had remaining now and he refused to let them trample on it when they had already stripped him of everything.

He had so little control left in his life already and his room was the perfect representation of that fact. Its very aspect underlined it, forcing him to acknowledge the humiliation of his imprisonment.

He had no power here.

His quarters were tiny, no larger than the prison cell of a common criminal, with granite walls and faint artificial lighting. There were no windows, only a steel door where the leader's two watchdogs were resentfully standing guard.

Kohashi, the taller of the two, was inside the room, observing his every move, while his partner stood outside. The man's scarred face – which Raito had quickly deduced on their first meeting to be the memento of a minor gang war in his youth (because although healed, it looked far too vicious to be intentionally caused by a bully or an abusive parent) – was marked by a constant frown, making him appear older than his mid-twenties.

Despite how unnerving the yakuza's incessant glare could be (_on cowards lacking any backbone – for example, his teachers_), Raito ignored it. It was completely unproductive to be destabilized by such a _minor_ character. Besides, Kohashi would only stray his eyes from him once in a very long while. After all, it was his task to watch over their prisoner's every action (in case he attempted something devious, but recklessly foolhardy again, though it would have been regarded as brilliant had it worked), and there wasn't much in the room to distract his attention.

In the corner lay the preteen's rolled-up futon, pillow and blanket and next to it, there was a small foldable table shared by Raito and his current tutor.

All else was bare. There were no pictures on the wall, no bookshelves brimming with knowledge (the books were stacked at the side of the table) or even a closet, or chest, filled with clothes (his guards brought him his outfit every morning).

There was nothing else.

Although Takamiya-sama wished to make full use of the genius' potential, he would not allow it to be used against him. He would not allow the child to get away from his grasp, where he would be free to seek revenge later on.

And there lay Raito's dilemma.

The leader of the Black Dragon was no one's fool. He had not led his group to the top of the food chain and become one of the major players in the underworld to simply be tricked twice by a mere child.

"Raito! Fais attention à ce que je dis!" Came the sharp reprimand, startling him from his dark musings. "I know you understand my leçons sans problème, but it isn't a raison suffisante for your inattention. If you think you understood what passé composé is, recite me donc the verbe 'jouer' at that tense."

Hiding his scowl, Raito did so – in the same confident voice he had used in school when asked to answer a question. However, he couldn't help but inwardly wince when he heard his horrible accent. This was the reason he refrained from speaking in foreign languages in front of others for now – and wouldn't do so until he eliminated it. Still, despite the shameful way his words sounded, his answers were correct.

Talon-san frowned and unwilling to admit defeat, asked him to do the same for 'finir'.

_So it's a battle of wills now? How pathetic._

"J'ai fini, tu as fini, il a –"

A knock on the door interrupted his recitation. Scowling, his teacher motioned for him to stop, not that he wouldn't have done so on his own anyway. Kohashi moved from his position of silent vigil to answer it.

As the door opened, Raito saw Watanabe and a stranger standing in the hall.

"Kohashi-san," came the second guard's reply, "the boss has asked for our and the tutor's presence." He gave a quick nod in the woman's direction. "He wanted a report on his progress. Mitsui-san – Mitsui isn't it?" At the newcomer's grunt, he continued. "Mitsui-san here will guard the brat."

Raito was quite sceptical of the validity of that statement. Somehow, he didn't believe that was all there was to it. Really, Takamiya-sama would never leave him alone with a completely new guard – no matter how trusted he was. In addition, if he wanted an update, he could have easily waited until the end of the lessons.

By the little quirk Kohashi's eyebrow was now sporting, he felt the same. Still, the dogs would not dare disobey their master. "Watanabe, stay here with Mitsui-san. I'll go with the teacher."

The stranger frowned. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. He only needs one of us anyway and no offence, but the boss would never leave the pest in only your presence. You don't know him as we do." He turned towards Raito. "You better not try anything while I'm gone or you'll wish you'd died from that flogging three weeks ago." He growled out.

Raito inwardly flinched at the threat, not because he was afraid of it, but because of what it implied.

All through his young life, everyone had loved him, praised him for his intelligence and he had basked in it. His charisma never failed to draw others in and they quickly fell for his charm.

However, because of his initial actions, of his recklessness, the yakuza's first impressions of him had been ruined. Although Takamiya-sama was impressed by his shrewdness, this feeling wasn't shared by his watchdogs. To them, he was nothing but a troublesome brat who was too arrogant for his own good. Their leader's pet-project or no, they felt he was worthy of being shot down for all the strife he had caused them.

And none of them would trust him half as far as they can throw him.

It was a problem he was trying desperately to remedy – by erasing his previous behaviour from their minds. However, as he watched the senior guard and his teacher's retreating backs, he knew he was not succeeding.

To make the situation worse, Kohashi was a constant witness of his antagonizing of his tutors. Raito nevertheless refused to change his conduct as they were not _worthy_ of his respect. They continuously treated him like a child and in a twisted way, he was certain Takamiya-sama approved of his behaviour.

Then, he saw it. A shot of black suddenly found itself in Mitsui's hand and before anyone could react, the crack of a gunshot resounded in the small room, far too loud despite how muffled the sound was by the silencer.

Outwardly, Raito was stunned. Inwardly, his mind quickly overcame the initial shock and analysed the new information. "You were sent by my father," he whispered.

"Great deduction. So you are as smart as your father boasted," the man drawled. "I guess you know why he sent me, hm?"

He tuned out the killer. His father. His upright, incorruptible father had hired a criminal to retrieve his son. He could not believe it.

His father who had always stood at the side of justice would stoop so low…

_The killer was sent by my father._

_The killer. My father._

When he had first been kidnapped, he had expected his father to mobilise his entire department in order to get him back. Though a bit drastic, Raito had been certain it would have been the best course of action. When he had learned that the police chief had actually acceded to the yakuza's demand, that he had pushed aside his pride, his honour as a law enforcer, it had shocked him. Yet, with time, he had learned to accept this decision made in the midst of desperation.

But to actually hire a criminal for his son's return… that he would throw away all sense of justice. It was so hypocritical.

And at that instant, he knew what to do.

Pretending to be coming out of his stupor, the preteen rushed towards the dead Watanabe side, feeling for a pulse, a sign of life, even though he knew there wasn't any. "You killed him!" He wailed out in a voice that sounded quite pathetic to his own ears. "You… you killed him!"

Mitsui – if that was even his real name – blinked and then scowled in annoyance as he batted away his childish accusation. "Yeah, I killed him. So what? C'mon, we gotta get away before the others come back."

_So the man doesn't know?_ Raito couldn't hide his disbelief (but this show of emotion only furthered his appearance of youth and naivety). The idiotic criminal didn't even know how bugged his room was and that at that very instant, Takamiya-sama's henchmen were rushing towards his cell.

There was no way they could escape.

And this was where he would once again gamble with his fate.

"C'mon now! We _have _to get going."

He would make it or break it.

As Mitsui grabbed hold of his hand, his other one, in a swift movement, jabbed the revolver he had filched from Watanabe's corpse into the man's stomach. He shot him.

Without any hesitation.

The intruder's eyes were wide with shock and incomprehension as he let go of the child's wrist and crumpled onto the cold hard ground. His own gun fell to his sides.

Raito made sure to kick it to the opposite corner of his room and held his own weapon out of reach. You can never be too sure with desperate dying men.

Crouching down, he watched the light fade from the man's eyes, a small smirk appearing on his lips – mocking. Then, in an emotionless voice, he answered the unspoken 'why?'. "I belong to the yakuza now."

And that was it.

He stood back up, brushed the dust off his pants, scowling in distaste at the splatters of blood adorning his pale hand. Raito then tore a strip out of the man's shirt – a piece of cloth that wasn't bloodied – and used it to wipe it off. Seeing nothing else to do but to wait for the cavalry to arrive, he leaned back onto the wall and stared down indifferently at his first kill, as it lay dying by his feet.

Although he was outwardly calm throughout the entire show, his mind was caught in complete turmoil.

He had killed. He had murdered. _He_ was no better than any of the other criminals.

In a way, he was just like his father, but worst.

All along, ever since he had acknowledged the hopelessness of his situation, he knew he would have to outwardly reject his morals in order to survive. If he wanted to gain rank and win Takamiya-sama's trust, he would have to become like _them_, the tumour of Japanese society – despite his utter disgust with their ways.

But now that he had killed, had felt the twisted joy, the power in having another's life in his hands – after being powerless for so long – he was afraid. He had killed. And he had _liked _it.

Yet, if he was to stay true to his former ideals, if he was to not lose himself – to not forget the true meaning of justice, unlike his _father_ – he could not judge himself differently than any other killer.

He could not make an exception for himself.

And as a killer, he deserved the death penalty. There were no excuses for taking another life, especially since he had done it for such a trifle, _yet strategic_, reason.

He was positive that he had won over some of the leader's trust by refusing to escape and by actually _killing_ the would-be kidnapper. In the future, he would need to commit other atrocities to gain rank (so that he may one day be powerful enough to reform the yakuza… _but could he do it now that he too was stained with the blood of his first – and future – victims?_).

And at what cost? He had thought it would be easy.

But now, after his first kill, after he took another's life away so easily, he could feel his core shattering.

On the 28th of February, on his birthday, his life had taken a drastic turn.

And through it all, his conscience repeated incessantly the same few words.

_Killer. Criminal. Justice. Killer. Criminal. Justice…_

Overhead, a blinking red light had recorded the entire event, now paying particular tribute to the young boy's remorseless figure surrounded by two cooling corpses.

Blood was slowly spreading on the ground, tainting the grey floor red.

* * *

_And you have to understand this, that a prince, especially a new one, cannot observe all those things for which men are esteemed, being often forced, in order to maintain the state, to act contrary to fidelity, friendship, humanity, and religion. Therefore it is necessary for him to have a mind ready to turn itself accordingly as the winds and variations of fortune, yet, as I have said above, not to diverge from the good if he can avoid doing so, but, if compelled, then to know how to set about it._

* * *

_**November 20**__**th**__** 2003**_

The world was rotten.

It was what Raito Yagami had believed in his youth and it still held true today, despite his changed circumstances. No. These last few years had only further confirmed the fact. Yet, such an 'eye-opening' experience had not simply been educational. By spending these last few years in the dredge of society, his outlook in life had suffered a violent turnabout. While before, he was optimistic and held hope that there was still good and justice in the world, his new position had turned him cynical. It had opened his eyes to how pervasively tainted humanity was.

And he too was rotten, perhaps less than some, but much worst than most.

As a yakuza, as Takamiya-sama's favoured (adoptive) son, countless deaths could be attributed directly or indirectly to his hands – or mind. Although not well-known – his new 'father' was just as protective and possessive as his previous one (perhaps more so) – and at only seventeen, he was still a force to be reckoned with.

A fact that Tamiya-san would soon learn.

Raito had always found it ironic how, in order to uphold their public image and the myth of a perfect reputation, senior executives often found themselves victims of bribes from the yakuza. Meanwhile, others would call for the mafia's help to cover up their mistakes during the annual shareholder meeting.

_Such a twisted relationship…_

It was quite pathetic that the pristine leaders of the corporate world found themselves so tangled up with the underworld. Had they been the model citizens they proclaimed themselves as, the sokaiya would never have gained such a foothold.

But then, when had businessmen been honourable human beings?

Not only were they dishonourable in all their dealings, but they were quite arrogant too, as proven by Tamiya-san's actions. The man even had the gall to rid himself of their previous messengers when he had tried to cut his ties with the darker denizens of society.

But the Black Dragon's web was quite large and would not let go of those it ensnared so easily. Raito himself was the perfect example.

But now was not the time for reminiscing: he had other business to deal with.

Masquerading as journalists, Raito and his two bodyguards had arrived at the head office of Sekimaru Corporation, fifteen minutes before their scheduled meeting at noon. It was now one o'clock.

The excuse used to explain such a delay was a common one. The manager of the developmental planning department was very busy and his previous appointment had taken longer than expected.

Raito naturally saw through the ploy but only nodded in understanding. Tamiya was making use of the most basic of all intimidation tactics: snub your inferiors to show how insignificant they were. As a 'member of the press', he should feel honoured that a man as important as Tamiya-san would spend a portion of his precious time to see him.

The brunet would have rolled his eyes at that. Really. This approach may work on those with low self-esteem and sycophants, but on others, it could actually backfire – particularly when dealing with the media. People with strong characters would feel outraged at the dismissal, if they were able to see it as such. The interview would only spiral down from there.

Still, he would let Tamiya have fun trying to pull the strings. Let him feel secure in his own elements before his world came crashing down around him. For Raito to remain unaffected would only destabilize the man. After such a long wait, he was seriously in need of amusement.

The man had no idea with whom he was dealing.

His companions though did not share his views and actually bristled at the subtle insult.

Sighing, the teenager took another sip of tea and looked out the window. He blinked as a sudden movement caught his attention.

_Was that –?_ He leaned in closer to the glass. _Yes. It was._

Somehow, a black notebook had dropped from the sky. As strange as that sounded, there was no other explanation for the blur that had passed down the window and the book now lying near the entrance of the corporation headquarters.

_Unless the office workers of Sekimaru-Corp actually made a habit of throwing work material out of the window…_

That was quite possible but the windows making up the building did not allow such lofty disposition of objects. _So how…_

But before he could further examine that train of thought, the receptionist walked up to them. "Tamiya-san is finally ready to see you. If you would follow me…"

Raito gave her a warm smile as he stood up. His hand absentmindedly brushed back his perfectly combed hair. "Yes, of course."

She blushed.

Behind him, Kohashi Makoto snorted – quite used to the veneer of polite respectability his charge presented to the world by now. Raito ignored him and focused his attention on the woman instead, engaging her in small talk.

She was relatively plain and with a very forgettable figure. Used to being dismissed by others, she was quite flustered at having such an attractive youth lavish her with attention. Once lured out of her shell and after careful prodding from Raito's part, she would shyly share her own views with him.

"Yes, Yotsuba-Corp seems to be doing rather well recently, especially with all the new programs they are coming up with now. And then, there is Fujitsu with that big project they have been keeping secret for quite some time. However, Sekimaru-Corp too is prospering. You know, I feel quite honoured to be extended this interview with Tamiya-san." His voice then turned remorseful. "He must be so busy now. I just hope I didn't distract him too much from his work."

"Ah. I'm sure he can spare a bit of time for _you_." At those words, she quickly averted her gaze, blushing. "And we should be the ones apologizing… for the long wait, I mean," she immediately added in clarification.

"Come now. There is no need for that. For you office workers, time is money."

"Yes, that's how the saying goes, doesn't it? But then, Tamiya-san has been having so many meetings these past few months."

He raised an eyebrow, inviting her to continue. "Really? Something important must have come up then."

"Yes. It's only rumours," she whispered, "but I heard that there might be trouble in the company since so many lawyers came." Her eyes suddenly widened. "Oh! I shouldn't have said that."

"I understand," Raito smiled with sympathy, easily alleviating her fears. "No need to worry. I wouldn't leak a word about it to my superiors. Not all of us in the press are sharks hunting for corporate secrets." He told her conspiringly.

She giggled, quite unattractively, at that.

The rest of the trip was spent in silence, but inside the privacy of his mind, Raito was sorting out the new information. Often, small talk yielded very little facts. Nevertheless, what ruled today's societies were not facts but sadly enough, the public's – often erroneous – interpretations of the truth. This was what he was looking for in such exchanges.

He was a master at manipulating these distortions to his advantage. The masses were gullible and far too naïve. They heard only what they wished to hear and saw only what they wished to see. Thus, those higher-ups sat quite cosily in their lofty positions, manoeuvring laws and propaganda to their advantage… until they were pulled down, to be trampled by the herd's outrage.

As they arrived before a set of large oak doors, the woman gave a quick knock. At the gruff "come in", they entered the pompous peacock's lair.

Tamiya-san's office wasn't that much different from any of its contemporaries. It was lavish and a waste of funds. Still, how else do spineless businessmen manage to impress others but by making use of their undeserving wealth?

This unnecessarily large room sat at the corner of the building and thus, two of its walls were made entirely of huge window frames. The view would have been magnificent to most, but as it simply showed the skyscrapers composing Tokyo, Raito was unimpressed. Columns of granite offered no beauty.

In fact, not one of man's creations could ever be considered beautiful.

Raito refocused his attention on his host. Like the emperor he was projecting himself to be, Tamiya-san sat behind his large desk, as a king would on his throne.

His first order of business? To direct those under his direct control. "Sukimitsu, you may remove yourself."

And then, he turned towards his guests. "Ah, Fukui-kun, I was expecting you. I must apologize for the delay but as you can see," he gestured towards the piles of paperwork on his desk. "I was busy correcting the mistakes of my inferiors. Now, if you want to take a seat," he added as an afterthought, waving towards the much smaller chair before his desk, "we may begin the interview. As for your two companions, they may make themselves comfortable in the back."

_Ah. So a show of strength_, Raito remarked, amused by his host's antics. _But if this is what you sought to achieve, you failed miserably by such obvious methods. It only makes you seem more insecure…_

His self-aggrandisement through his speech and his furnishings, while on the surface promoting his self-importance, also hinted at the artificiality of the power he wielded. He, actually, hoped to further control the interview by removing Raito's support emphasized his lack of confidence.

_Pitiful…_

Smiling widely and placing his arms wide apart on his desk – a show of openness –, Tamiya started. "Now, what would you like to start with? My education? My goals?" He beamed. "Though I must admit how impressed I am that one as young as yourself is interviewing me. I am truly amazed by the ability of the youth these days… though as you'll soon see, us old tigers are just as formidable."

Once again, the businessman was trying to ascertain his position, by both subtly putting down Raito for his age and promoting himself. Still, he softened the blow with that little compliment.

_Trying to win me over now, are you?_

Raito beamed. "Yes, to have risen to the top of Sekimaru Corporation, you must be quite skilled. I do however wonder about all those who had the honour of helping you along the way."

"Yes, yes," Tamiya said impatiently, "I am quite thankful for their assistance. Without my loyal employees, I would have never made it to where I am."

Here, Raito's smile turned sly. "Oh, but I am not speaking about your subordinates."

The manager frowned as he lost control of the flow of the interview. "The public? Of course I am thankful for their support." Then, as though suddenly understanding his interviewer's approach, his face opened up again. "Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, shouldn't we move on towards the questions? Wouldn't your readers like to know about my goals? Or maybe the new era Sekimaru-Corp is heading into?"

"Of course. But yet again sir, you misunderstand me," he shook his head, disappointed, "I would like to point out the expertise you needed five months ago, and those services for which you have yet to pay. Aren't you thankful that your dear consumers have not heard about this little dishonesty, or even the reason you required those men's assistance? My readers and I are quite interested in learning your goals in regards to that matter."

Tamiya blanched at those words.

"Of course, you did dispose of my predecessors." Raito cocked his head to one side questioningly. "Now is that the wonderful new era the company is heading into? To eliminate all obstacles? Well, I am sure you would approve of others doing the same… and I am quite certain that Suzuki-san would endorse your current actions. He too was quite an honest fellow."

And a dead one too. Juntaro Suzuki, the former vice-president of Fujifilm, had been murdered by the sokaiya after refusing to pay the bribes.

Sweat was pooling down the pig's forehead. It seemed – despite the bravado he presented to the world – he was quite a coward. Still… he did order two members of his group to be killed. There must be more to him.

"YOU… you have no proof!" The white face had now purpled into a very unattractive color. "I'll tell you that you'll find no record of wrongdoings in my work. And if you try to blackmail me any further, I'll… I'll call security!"

"Call them in if you so wish," Raito replied with confidence. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his uncomfortable chair. "But then, your face would make the first page of all the major newspapers tomorrow. After all, it isn't everyday that the manager of a department engages in a secret business and amorous relationship with the heir to a rival corporation."

At that revelation, Tamiya-san stood up, slamming both hands on the desk top. The entire table shook with the blow, a few pens rolling off of it and falling to the ground.

"W-WHAT DO YOU MEAN!?" He roared.

"Now now," the infuriating brunet tsked, his languid tone dripping with poison. "Do you actually believe we would simply help you out and not research your motive?" He frowned to think for a moment. "No, you're right." His smile turned brilliant – though still predatory. "Of course those two idiots would not. But I am not them."

"But you still have no proof," Tamiya grounded out.

"Of course, you had your lawyers smooth out your affairs." At the man's shocked face, Raito grinned. "You thought I didn't know? You really must have thought me to be blind then. Even your subordinates have noticed. Well, they believe that it's because the company isn't doing so well, but either way still works to my favour. After all, who could resist a scandal? Especially when it is founded on facts…"

And like vultures, the public would pounce on that juicy piece of meat. The employees would feel especially vindicated to see their despotic leader fall, when amongst themselves, they have already predicted it.

It was human nature: to prey on the weak – or the now powerless alphas.

"I-I –" He stammered.

"And the shareholders. They would be quite glad to know the reason their meeting had been so rudely interrupted by cries of 'Banzai!' was due to one of the company's esteemed managers. And imagine the gossip columns," he continued on, viciously ignoring Tamiya's growing desperation. "The reason for your long drives during the weekends would be finally revealed! A secret romantic and business affair with Minato-san from Fujitsu-Corp, where you trade both _sweet_ declarations of love and trade secrets. A modern Romeo and Juliet! Some would weep at the tragedy of this love, while others would be outraged by –"

In one furious lunge, Tamiya grabbed the impertinent brat's collar, shaking him. "YOU. WILL. NOT. MOCK. KIMI!!"

_Aww… how disgustingly sweet._

However, before the man could continue any further, a gun was pressed to his temple. "Let go of Takamiya-san," came Kohashi's cold voice.

The fool needed no further prodding.

Realising his position, the businessman immediately released his antagonist and slumped back down on his chair. At that instant, rubbing his abused neck, Raito could not help but notice how old and weary the man looked.

_He is without his masks now. A tired old man, clinging desperately to his power through whatever means necessary._

_And what am _I_ behind this show of arrogance, of power?_

_Who is the true Raito, the one behind the yakuza?_

But he refused to dwell on that any further. It was useless.

Gripping his forehead with his two hands, Tamiya-san finally spoke after a handful of calming breaths. "So what do you want?"

And so the negotiations began.

The fly would never dare break away from the web any longer.

* * *

"It was a job well done, but you should probably avoid inciting your opponent's anger next time. You could have completed your task just as efficiently without goading him."

Looking out of the car's window, not the usual limousine since journalists arriving in a luxury car would be quite conspicuous, Raito ignored his driver's advice.

Kohashi would never understand that sometimes, such childish actions were necessary. His subordinate did not comprehend human character as well as he did, and Raito was not the kind who would explain his actions to others.

Tamiya was the type of man who was entirely made up of hot air, as proven by his constant show of bravado. He leeched his confidence from his inferiors' obedience. It was the reason he had hired such a meek receptionist. When meeting strangers, he constantly tried to establish himself as the alpha male. He would show off his wealth, show off his position. He used every pathetic trick in the book to hide the truth of his own shameful cowardice.

This was why their previous two messengers had failed. They lacked subtlety and all they had to back them up were loud threats. Tamiya would have seen them as nothing but loudmouths who could be easily eliminated. After all, if it was a confrontation between braggers, and Tamiya was the bigger one.

It was the opposite with Raito.

The young man had seemed demure and powerless at first, apparently overwhelmed by the executive's wealth and authority. Thus, Tamiya had been confident of his position and had felt secure in his own superiority that when Raito had turned the tables around, the man broke. His loss of supremacy was too sudden and compounded with all the evidence Raito had amassed against him, the manager knew he had been bested.

He then weakly submitted himself to the victor's will.

That his defeat was attributed to a cheeky brat only accentuated his powerlessness. This was the reason behind Raito's insolence.

But Kohashi would not see it that way. Instead, he would ascribe it to his youth and his apparent carelessness.

"Takamiya-sama would be back in five days. Be certain to have your report ready by then."

Raito barely refrained from snorting – such an unbecoming action. As if _he_ would ever neglect his duties…

Used to his young master's silence, Kohashi continued. "He'd be happy with how you've handled the situation. Tamiya-san isn't stupid or daring enough to go against us again."

Of course. The man looked ready to piss in his pants by the time they had left. But that was how the yakuza operated, through intimidation and manipulation.

As he looked through the window and into the masses of Japanese scouring around in their daily lives, he could not help but muse on how ignorant the populace was as a whole.

Many were aware of their system's current corruption but refused to do a thing about it, preferring the status quo or simply enjoying the benefits it wrought. Those who opposed were swiftly eliminated.

The police had no power. They only dealt with petty criminals when society as a whole had to be purged. But none could deal with those in power, no matter how rotten they were.

And behind them stood the yakuza, helping the elite in their endeavours or keeping them drowning in sin.

"Don't forget the meeting that'd be held then. With the recent wave of success…"

The underground after all indulged Japan's overworked populace's sick fantasies. Despite the anti-prostitution laws, the yakuza had found many ways around it to help establish and protect sex-related industries. From there, mizu shobai and its more carnal counterpart, fuzoku, had thrived, carefully navigating the grey area left by the regulation's loophole. Although some would be satisfied with the geishas, bars and cabarets provided by the water trade, others needed soaplands, pink salons health and image clubs to relieve themselves.

_Sick, all of them_...

"… I heard your brother is thinking of expanding the prostitution-rings…"

But that was only one of the darker aspects of society that the yakuza was involved in.

The other, though less pervasive, was much more profitable. After all, blackmailing high-level executives brought in huge amounts of funds.

Oftentimes, in order to escape scandals that may be generated during shareholder meetings, corporate leaders would hire sokaiya to disrupt them, as had been the case with Tamiya-san. They would then be able to avoid such uncomfortable questioning.

Yet, this gave an immeasurable amount of power to the yakuza. Although they would help them, they would also sometimes blackmail these same executives. They would threaten to upset the annual meetings unless paid to leave, or expose embarrassing secrets there – or in newspapers.

"By the way, did you complete whatever task Takamiya-sama left you on Aoi Corporation?"

And no matter what they tried, it was practically impossible for the 'morally-upright businessmen' to escape the yakuza.

Blue-collar crimes, white-collar crimes, corporate crimes, state crimes… organized crimes were involved everywhere.

This was how twisted their society had become.

And as Raito glanced at his suitcase, where a black notebook was now held, he could not help but be amused by what sick new prank youngsters these days had generated.

_Death Note?_

_Please…_

With how corrupted the world had become, a supposed 'shinigami's notebook' was nothing compared to the destruction humanity was capable of.

* * *

That night, in his dark room in the Takamiya complex, Raito could not avert his eyes from that seemingly innocent notebook.

He may not be able to see it, was in fact barely able make out its shape in the absence of lighting, but its presence could not be more acute. Its malevolent presence pulsed, enthralled its owner to use it again.

Raito did not know if he could refuse its calling.

In the same way he had failed in preventing himself from trying out its sick power.

The first test was performed on the Shinjuku killer. After all, if someone did actually die, Raito had to make sure the murder – what else could it be? – could not be credited to his hands.

And it had worked.

The man had died. Of a heart attack. After exactly forty seconds.

He tested it out again later.

That first death had been nothing but a coincidence, _right_?

Raito gritted his teeth in anger as he thought back on that. He had been a fool. It had worked the first time. There had been no need to kill again.

But he had.

On his way to visit one of the host clubs his Clan managed, he saw a biker gang harassing a young woman. So he used the Death Note on Shibuimaru Taro.

A truck ran over him. A death by accident.

And again, after exactly forty seconds.

If the first death hadn't clinched it, this one had.

The Death Note was real. And he had killed two men to satisfy his sick curiosity.

His bodyguards may have been surprised by his dazed state but they did not comment on it as they quickly rushed him away from the site of the accident. The police would soon show up and it was preferable that the yakuza were no longer present at the scene.

As soon as they had left, Raito had quickly collected himself and conducted his business as efficiently as usual. Yet, in the back of his mind, the Death Note had incessantly kept whispering deadly dark promises.

He had painfully ignored them throughout the evening, but as soon as he returned to the privacy of his own room, as soon as the shoji door had been closed, Raito had known he needed to come to a decision.

He could not have been more conflicted.

He now held in his hands the power of a god, a god of death.

And this much power truly frightened him.

It would be too easy, far too easy, to eliminate all his obstacles and to escape his life of crime.

But at what cost?

It was impossible for him to go back to that youthful insouciance. He was too cynical, too twisted now. His hands were stained in blood; his heart was darkened beyond hope.

He was a criminal. A murderer.

Too many have died already, should he kill more for such a selfish reason?

The freedom the Death Note promised was no freedom at all. Not when it was bathed in the blood of countless others.

And it was the coward's way out.

In the darker aspect of his mind, Raito wanted to laugh at the irony of it all, of his twisted conscience. A killer who killed to survive, but refused to kill for his own freedom.

He would have laughed – had he not known his laugh would have sounded far too pitiful – and instead, proceeded to pace around. He needed to think.

It did not help that he felt so caged.

_At least_, Raito mused, _there are no cameras. It would not do for the yakuza to see me lose my composure._

_And it is a good thing that I turned off the light._

He refused to feel so exposed, even when alone.

Although he had easily concluded that he could not use the Death Note for his own selfish purposes, he also knew that he would be unable to simply leave it alone. It had a way of luring its owners to use it again and again.

Like a drug.

It was too powerful of a tool to simply be locked away.

And although Raito was proud of his self-control, he would rather deal with the problem now before he was tempted into using it irrationally.

And of course, he could not hand it over to others. This weapon in the hands of the yakuza… the possibility was too frightening to imagine.

So what to do with it?

Raito ran a hand through his hair again, aggravated, and terrified.

Oh. He knew what he would have used it for in his childhood.

To purge the world of evil.

For something so innocent. So naïve.

He gave a mirthless chuckle.

Such a feat was impossible.

But really, hadn't he hoped to reform the yakuza at that time?

And although the idea had merit, it was impossible for one as rotten as he to accomplish. He had enough trouble keeping his conscience already.

_No_, Raito thought, _I cannot. I am in no position to judge others. As for my sins, I am beyond redemption now._

He absentmindedly stroked the cover. His fingers twitched to make use of its power. Slowly, he turned the cover and reached for a pen.

_Kat–_

Then, as though realising the sudden direction of his thoughts, he slammed the cover shut, snatched his hand away and hid the notebook between all the other volumes covering his bookshelf.

No. He wouldn't think anymore about it tonight, when his mind was tired and vulnerable.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow he would find a solution and hopefully, it would be the right one. He did not know if he could resist its lure any longer.

He did not know…

Somehow, he could not believe he had been given such power. One as tainted as he…

And slowly, as he desperately tried to shut the notebook away from his mind, his musings turned to the same direction they did every night.

His judgement.

It was a ritual he had created on that awful evening so many years ago when he had killed for the first time. Unwilling to become a hypocrite, to simply bury his guilt and forget about his crimes, he forced himself to relive them every night so that he would not forget. The corrupt system may have allowed him to live freely and he might have escaped justice and punishment, but he would not allow such neglect to rule his existence.

And tonight, although the arrival of that horrible notebook had destabilized him, he still would not let himself ignore his sins. In fact, he might need to remind himself of them more than ever.

_So that I would not selfishly exploit that weapon and erase what little conscience I still have left. To be able to take away life so easily… with a stroke of a pen…_

Slowly, with deep calming breaths, he closed his eyes and relived all his crimes.

Whereas he would push away his conscience and guilt during the day, at night, it returned at full force as his judge, jury and executioner.

_28__th__ of February 1998. I murdered Mitsui, a criminal sent by my father to rescue me. I had no excuses. I killed in order to win Takamiya-sama's trust. It was petty. It was inexcusable. I deserve the death penalty._

_6__th__ of October 1998. I was responsible for the execution of Saitou Kaoru. I found out…_

One after the other, he reviewed all his crimes, his motivations and the consequences. He allowed himself no reprieve, emotionally draining himself as he forced himself to face them, one by one. And as the years passed, his sins grew worse and more numerous.

_20__th__ of November 2003. I blackmailed Tamiya Roppei. Although he wished to escape the corruption brought by the Sokaiya, I forced him back into it._

_Through my own sick curiosity, I tested out the Death Note. I murdered Otoharada Kurou. He had killed six people at Shinzuku and had been holding a teacher and seven children hostage at the time of his death. Although my actions led to their freedom, it still does not excuse them._

_I then killed Shibuimaru Taro, just to further confirm the power of the Death Note. It may have saved a girl from being sexually harassed but he did _not_ deserve to die. I had no right to judge him._

All this reminiscence – of the past which he prevented himself from dwelling upon during the day –took no more than an hour. It was an efficient ritual, one he would never bypass.

In his private court, he did not defend himself. He was guilty. And he knew it, would not forget it.

And if ever justice came, if ever he was arrested and evidence was presented, he would plead guilty. He would not escape. Unlike his father, he would face judgement.

And hopefully, he would be punished.

He was no saint. He was not God. He was a sinner and he deserved to rot in hell.

* * *

**A/N: **DONE!! I can't believe how long this chapter is. Hopefully, the next ones wouldn't be as bad. I had thought to stop after he found the Death Note, as the irony of that sentence would have made a perfect ending but then, it would have messed up what I had planned for the following chapters.

And ha! I bet you guys are surprised! RAITO HAS A CONSCIENCE!! I think this is the first time it happened when he is the owner of the Death Note in fandom. Well, I'm sure you guys thought that his being a yakuza would make him more ruthless and twisted. That is correct. However, you must not forget his strong sense of justice. He would not allow himself to escape it. And this is what would make him vastly different from canon Raito. His guilty conscience.

Oh. And he's not stupidly naïve with a god complex.

BTW, in case you didn't know, in the first half, Raito had just turned twelve. In the second part, he is just as old as he had been in cannon when he found the Death Note (seventeen). Really, you guys have no idea how hard it is to find out all the dates of the major events in DN.

Anyway, hope you guys enjoyed the chapter and I would like to thank you for your kind reviews.

I have no idea when the next instalment would come (can't believe I finished writing this one so soon – but then, there is only so much to do at my chalet when I'm not skiing or at a friend's place). Hopefully, L is finally going to make an appearance.

Okay, so Happy New Year!!

_Edited 06/05/08 – Note, I decided to go for a mix of French and English in Talon's speech so if you want to get the entirely translated version, just check my livejournal. I'll have it up under the 'edit' tag._

**Edited 05/14/08 (Recipe for Insanity)**


	3. Of Business and Duty

Chapter 2

Of Business and Duty

* * *

_**November 28**__**th**__** 1999**_

Some saw the world in black and white, divided between Good and Evil. Others, more discerning, perceived it in shades of grey.

Takamiya Hiroto, the leader of the Black Dragon Clan, was not so simpleminded. There was no good in this world and consequently, its foil was also absent. These separations were simply human precepts designed to bring order to society.

And as one of the rulers of its counterpart, he saw the world differently.

Fools would blame his radical views on the underground operating under vastly different rules. They existed under the delusion that the depths of civilisation lived like beasts – preying on the weak in a race for survival of the fittest.

Although Hiroto never ceased to be amazed by their naivety, he never deigned to correct them. He did not believe in altruism. If they were blind enough to let themselves be manipulated, then they deserved their fate.

And he would fully take advantage of their failings.

It was thus no wonder that he approached the world in terms of power. He valued cunning and intellect above all. _They_ were the tools necessary to rise up in the world and stay there. Not background, not pure wealth and especially not luck.

Born as the son of the second-in-command of a local boryokudan, he was raised to become his father's successor. It was a respectable enough position – as far as respectability went with criminals. But Hiroto was far more ambitious than that: he was not destined to toil in servitude. Barely passed adulthood, he rallied the younger members in addition to all the malcontents and engineered a coup-d'état. Usurping a brute's gang was child's play. Hence, unsatisfied with such a small accomplishment, he proceeded to spread out its influence and painstakingly built his web of connections.

He was ruthless, he was unforgiving and he prospered.

Soon his domain expanded overseas and he established 'trade routes' with the American and Russian mafias. These alliances had been quite brittle at first but after a short while, their mutual interests overrode their initial distrusts.

The Chinese Triads were another matter altogether however.

In a little less than three decades, Takamiya Hiroto had built an empire. Though not the largest nor the most powerful organisation in Japan, it was still the envy of all the minor yakuza bosses, still stagnating in small businesses.

"…no less. My selling price is quite reasonable. We are not all as well-off as you," Chiba-san finished with a wry grin.

The grimace did not flatter the man's portly features nor did it hide his true feelings. Mid-forty, slightly less than a decade younger than his host, the leader of the Red Lotus was infinitely jealous of Takamiya's success. He was only the boss of a large local gang whose territory bordered the Black Dragon's. His people consisted mostly of thugs and all manner of bullies. Relying mainly on brute force to get their will across, they had much influence on the lower denizens of Tokyo and its surroundings. Their group nevertheless lacked the prestige and the success in other endeavours enjoyed by its neighbour – a fact Chiba-san deeply resented.

"Mayhap," Hiroto calmly took a sip of tea before redirecting the conversation, carefully observing Chiba-san's expression. "I do not know if you have heard but there have been quite a few rumors related to that building lately."

The yakuza frowned. "Really?"

Hiroto smiled serenely, his stern features uncharacteristically gentle and open, with no hint of the predator lurking underneath. "Yes. They say that you are unable to keep the local biker gangs away from your property." He paused for a bit, letting his guest register the subtle attack. "It must be quite troublesome; constantly having to pay for the damage those unwelcome visitors wrought on your investment."

He watched his visitor silently grit his teeth at the suggestion of his incompetence. Not only was he implying that the man was incapable of getting rid of a band of hooligans but that they were also taking advantage of him.

"It would be my pleasure to relieve you of this burden."

As always, Hiroto made sure to fully ascertain his position in these power plays. Although forcing his opponents to acknowledge their inferiority would only incite their ire, he was sufficiently powerful to risk it. None of them were skilful enough to turn the situation against him and the sooner they realise it, the better.

Chiba-san was clearly struggling with this concept as he took out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. After a long pause, he finally responded. "That may be true," there was no use to lie, "but I can't see why I should sell it to you." He said, lighting his Marlboro. "That building of mine is situated in the neutral zone so I don't think handing over even more influence to you would be a good idea. Especially for such a low cost."

"You would be correct had I decided to keep it." He felt Chiba-san's curiosity rouse as the man lifted an eyebrow.

"So you're just gonna give it away?" He managed to grumble out despite the cigarette held in the corner of his mouth.

His guest was suspicious of course. Why would Takamiya-san not keep that piece of real estate after all the trouble he had gone through to acquire it? Unless it had some hidden value he was unaware of…

Amused, the corner of Hiroto's mouth quirked up. "Why not? I intended to leave the entirety of its management to Raito-kun. It would make a suitable Christmas present. Do you disapprove?"

The second eyebrow rose up to join the first one. And then, as he spit out his Marlboro, a hearty chuckle made its appearance, slowly growing into a full-blown laughter. It took a while for Chiba-san to regain his composure and for the noise to subside. Yet, Hiroto knew he had won.

Not simply through power or fear, but through his own manipulation of them. The leader of Red Lotus resented Takamiya's success and hated being reminded of it. To have his own flaws pointed out and ridiculed only further incurred his ire. Thus, he would like nothing better than to see his host fall.

"So it all comes down to him! I do not understand your fascination with that strip of a boy. Had he been mine, he would have served a much more _lucrative_ purpose."

From the wiggle of his eyebrows and his lecherous grin, Hiroto had no trouble divining what disgusting 'purpose' Chiba was referring to. Though repulsed, he did not react outwardly to the allusion. "I am quite content raising him as my son."

Had his voice been as steely as his feelings, the bastard would not have carried on so boldly.

"Y'know," Chiba continued, "sometimes I must question your eccentricities. To actually give up three caches of shabu for that child, your little pet project better make it worth your while." He paused, considering.

"Fine, I'll sell it to you. I'm curious of the outcome," _he was anxious to see my failure_, "and remember if his upkeep ever become too much, it will be my pleasure to relieve you of _that_ burden," he smirked at repeating Takamiya's earlier words. "I always need another pet…"

Luckily, a firm knock on the door interrupted the lecher's rant before Hiroto lost his cool and reacted to the taunt. _That that _pig_ would actually…_

_Raito was HIS!!_

Coolly, he walked towards the door and opened it. His annoyance immediately subsided at the sight of his little prodigy framed by his two bodyguards. A slight genuine smile even made an appearance as Raito's pretty head lowered demurely in greeting.

"Oyabun-sama." His title, though whispered, came out clear and strong through those rosy lips.

"Raito-kun."

At the acknowledgement, the child lifted his head. His soft brown eyes instantly narrowed when they caught sight of his 'visitor'. "I didn't know you had…" The slight pause clearly indicated his opinion of the man. "… company. I'll come back later sir."

The thirteen-year-old bowed once more and turned to leave but the hand on his shoulder stopped him. Hiroto had told his charge to come see him as soon as he finished his task – although he had not expected it to be completed so soon – and it was far more important than dealing with the likes of Chiba.

Furthermore, he was tired of the man's crudeness. Now that he knew that the deal will pull through, he may as well be rid of his presence. He would simply sign the contract another day – probably when he was in a better mood.

"No need. We were just about to finish up anyway, weren't we?" He said, addressing Chiba at the end.

It was not a question.

Though annoyed, the cretin did not miss the unmistakable threat and answered in the affirmative.

There was no way Hiroto would ever let that pig stay any longer in his Raito's presence. Although his back had been turned to the man ever since his son's arrival, he did not miss how Chiba's squinty eyes hardly ever left the teenager's slender frame, lingering on inappropriately.

Hiroto would have snarled had he been anyone but himself.

Instead, he quickly went through the necessary courtesies to send his guest away. His exterior never once showed his inner frustration.

"I'll call you to draw up the deal later." His voice, though icier, never once gave hint to his inner fury.

_Possessive, no?_

He did not dignify that mental taunt with an answer.

"Well, I'm heading off now. Takamiya-san, keep my offer in mind. There is so much I can teach one with as much potential" he gave _his_ Raito another once over, "as him. I could make it worth your while," he finished, his slimy tongue darting out and wetting his lips.

Hiroto's steely goodbye summed up his feelings on the matter.

As soon as that sick pig left, the leader of the Black Dragon opened one of his office's windows. He felt the need to be rid of the last vestiges of that insolent lecher's presence – the smell of his cigarettes.

That Chiba had dared gaze so lustfully at _his_ property… It was despicable.

Such impudence demanded retribution. Yet, he knew he could not, would not act. He would never allow himself to make a show of his attachment to that child. That his little prodigy could cause such feelings of possessiveness was disturbing enough as it was. For others to find out about this weakness would be his ruin.

But he knew he would not change the situation for the world.

He would not give up _his_ Raito.

When he had first seen the boy's file, he had labelled him as a pretty child, intelligent – but what could you expect from his upbringing? He had not realised the gem he held in his hand until the boy had tried to escape. When those spiteful scheming eyes had challenged him.

It was quite ironic for that very action had tightened the noose around Raito's slender neck. At that instant, Hiroto knew that he would never let him go – no matter the cost. He would not allow that potential to go to waste.

He would train him; he would raise him to exploit that intelligence for the organisation. He knew the boy would not let himself be used but there laid the challenge.

And slowly, unknowingly, his cold detached feelings on the matter changed. His desire to control his tool grew and warped into a need to possess him entirely. He was fascinated by his acquisition's intellect, his shrewdness and even his own brand of cruelty – when forced out. He was mesmerized by the child's maturity, his quiet grace and his beauty – and the promise of further development it held. He had witnessed how that enthralling devil-child had thrown away his innocence in order to survive in this new hell.

To see what could have become the most perfect of being twisted for his own benefit…

It was true power.

Raito was his… and he did not share.

"Report." He ordered, gesturing for his charge to take the seat his previous 'guest' had vacated.

Calmer, he in turn returned to his desk.

His eyes rove along the child's collarbone, his slender neck and that angelic face. Greedily, they devoured the vision Raito made as he detailed his plan while his ears absorbed the information he was given. He carefully processed and analysed it, at times injecting his own advice.

As the security measures at countries' borders increased, drug trafficking constantly drew more risks of getting caught. Yet, criminal organisations would never let such trivialities deter them from their business.

"I hacked into the FBI's database and it seems like they have set their eyes on Ross-san's organisation. They must have had a leak."

Hiroto hummed in consent, having already heard this information from the mafia boss himself.

"It was only by chance that they lacked enough evidence to keep our previous contact, Kal Snydar, in jail. I guess they have at least one LA cop in their pocket. But I don't think we can rely on their side to complete the trade any longer." By the tone of his voice, Raito's disgust on the matter was clear.

It was always a shame when your allies were incapable of fulfilling their parts.

The yakuza and the American mafia had always had good rapports: the Japanese smuggled methamphetamine into the States, which their counterparts traded for firearms. Although these transactions mostly took place in Hawaii – where the Japanese criminals blended in with the local population and the Asian tourists –, the Black Dragon had formed many alliances in California as well – from the local Korean and Vietnamese gangs to the organisation headed by Rod Ross.

"What we have to do is establish a new route. We cannot simply rely on middle-men or unsuspecting travellers to get the meth across, especially with the amount that has already been confiscated lately. We'll need to send a large shipment." Here, he took out a file about Mitsubishi. "We need to trick unsuspecting corporations instead.

"They are about to export a few hundreds cars to the States in the coming month. All we need to do is hide the packs of meth inside." And then he proceeded to go into details, expounding on the company's situation, the workers and even the car-building process.

As he listened to his charge's plan, Hiroto had to admit it was brilliant. The risks were minimized and none – except for a select few – would be aware of their participation in this illicit trade. In addition, if they were ever caught, the blame would lie solely on Mitsubishi's back. On the other hand, if all goes as planned, the sokaiya may even use the knowledge of its 'involvement' in the drug trafficking to blackmail the largest corporation of the world.

But what truly drew his interest was not the intricacy of the scheme but how much it resembled an old ally's role in the French Connection – they had been the first to hide heroin in the nooks and crannies of imported cars. Of course, in the intervening years, the Unione Corse had lost a lot of influence and the milieu have, for the most part, retreated underground, but he still fondly recalled the friendships he had cultivated with them in his youth.

It was thus no wonder that the only problem Hiroto could detect was unrelated to the conspiracy in question. Despite the effort Raito had pulled into his task, the leader had noticed the boy's concealed revulsion for the project as a whole. It was understandable as this type of operation had been the cause of his kidnapping and subsequent changed living circumstances.

And although Hiroto could sympathize, he knew he could not let it continue. That aversion must be eliminated. After all, he was grooming the genius to become his successor.

While he did not fully trust his adoptive son – no that he trusted anyone – he knew the child would not betray him anytime soon. His little fallen angel was a survivor above all. He would do anything to avoid death.

Imagine his surprise – and pleasure – when the yakuza had found his prisoner standing above the corpse of his would-be kidnapper. That simple action had proven how willing the child was to give up his morals and fall. To become part of the underground.

Hiroto may have clipped his wings but Raito was the one who had tainted the remains of those appendages. He had damned himself.

The head of the Black Dragon could not have been more pleased. Fully taking advantage of this new situation, he had forced the child to fall deeper and to further contaminate his soul. Instead of simply teaching him languages, diplomacy and technology as he had initially planned – to make use of his intellect –, he had him involved in all aspects of the group's shady business. The child's morals had been looser than he had at first assumed and Hiroto swiftly proceeded to rid him of whatever conscience he may still harbour.

And although he seriously doubted Raito would ever try to escape, this avenue was now impossible with all the crimes now darkening his adolescent years.

Hiroto had always wished for a worthy successor, often despairing at the inadequacy of his son – a simple-minded overconfident flirt.

Now that he had Raito, he would never ever let him go.

The boy was _his_.

* * *

_… for if everything is considered carefully, it will be found that something which looks like virtue, if followed would be his ruin; whilst something else, which looks like vice, yet followed brings him security and prosperity._

* * *

_**November 25**__**th**__** 2003**_

"So y'know what happened?"

"What?" Echoed all the little toy soldiers.

"Well, I shoved my gun between his eyes. Scared the shit out of that pretentious bastard. You should have seen him hobble away in shame, with a puddle between his legs."

While Katsuo's answer was followed by roars of laughter from his companions, Ryozo simply smiled in reminiscence. Despite how old this retelling was becoming – as most of them have witnessed the scene last night –, it was still glorious in the twenty-seven-year-old's mind.

The businessman's face was pasty white and he had never looked more pathetic: with his pants pulled down, sweat dripping from both lust and his delicious fear – in the mist of getting a blowjob.

Of course what came out of his shrivelling member was quite different with the boss' son's brazen arrival and subsequent threat. As Ryozo wet his lips, his teeth pulled a piece of skin off and he swallowed it. It was so _amusing_ seeing the high and mighty fall.

"Guess the coward's threats amount to nothing. Such a shame. I would have loved to use him as a target practice. Ah well," he smirked. "That'll teach him. My word is law in these parts and I don't give a shit if he's some important VIP who paid for the session or whatever. I come first."

And that's why he loved to hang around that spoiled heir. The man held none of his father's tact and never paid heed to social norms. Especially since he was slowly alienating the small businesses he was supposed to be protecting…

"And what did you do to her?" He posed, wondering how much pain the display of insolence had rewarded the prostitute.

"Oh…" Katsuo chuckled, fully reading into his best friend's sadistic tendencies. "I promise you that it was… illuminating. I'll even show you the video. After that little lesson, she sure learned her place. They all did. And if not… maybe you'd like to join in next time. My employees are terrified of you y'know."

The new brilliance in his eyes said it all but Ryozo answered anyway. "Well, they do scream… very prettily."

"And they'll scream as prettily as you want if they ever repeat this incident. When I'm here, they cater to me first. Not some shit-knows-who customer." Takamiya Katsuo declared pompously.

Their little leader then gave a rakish grin and passed his hand through his gelled hair as the two girls – whatever their names were – clinging onto his arms giggled. Katsuo wasn't what one would describe as handsome. He had a roguish charm that screamed of danger and attracted sycophants to him… and that was starting to lose its appeal as he approached thirty. He was stocky, without any defined muscles. Although he possessed great strength and speed, they only came in spurts. He was not a fighter, he did not regularly workout and he left most of the dirty work to his followers. Still, he was a dangerous man.

After all, being the only _true_ son of Takamiya Hiroto had its advantages.

The yakuza inspired terror in the hearts of the timid Japanese citizens. His 'invaluable' position in the Black Dragon only increased the scared awe that was his due.

And as this man's best friend and sometimes confidant, he shared a good deal of that fear. Ryozo relished the day Katsuo would finally gain control of the entire crime syndicate – for now, he was only managing the large territory in Kabukicho that mostly dealt with the fuzoku, the sex trade.

The sadist could not wait to witness the chaos that would then strike down the underworld – bringing down many of the major pillars of Japanese society with it.

It would be spectacular.

Already in his mind, he could envision the streets of Shinjuku bathed with bloodshed, all due to Katsuo's inept leadership and the inevitable war that would follow. Ryozo had long known that his friend was an idiot. He did not think before acting; he never anticipated the problems that may arise in the future as all he saw was the present.

He was so ignorantly blind.

That the yakuza heir had such a foul temper only brought on an even more delightful situation.

As he watched Katsuo breathe out the smoke from his cigarette, eyes slightly glazy in reminiscence as he retold his sexual exploits to his attentive audience, Ryozo laughed gleefully.

The 'young master' was the worst possible leader for an organisation as structured as the Black Dragon. His actions would lead to sweet anarchy.

_Just what they need._

Ryozo had never bothered to hide his disdain for this 'civilized' special ward of Tokyo. Although it proclaimed itself to be bursting with criminal activities, it was in reality only a pathetic excuse for a yakuza hangout.

The Japanese crime organisations have all overtime been tamed – except for a few small insignificant gangs with no true power. The influence they held had more to do with the threat of violence than actual violence.

Thus, they needed idiots like Katsuo to bring back the savagery, men who would do anything for power but had no concept of such actions' consequences.

He grinned when he saw Takamiya's son press down the butt of his cigarette on the palm of the tall bleached man's hand. Simply because this particular minion had been annoying him.

Instead of diffusing the situation, Ryozo stepped closer to better enjoy the follower's whimpers of pain. The newest member – a mouse of a man – though did not know the group's unspoken rules and nervously intruded into the show.

"So any idea what today's meeting's about boss?" He mumbled, trying to change the subject.

It worked.

Ryozo was delighted.

The young master let go of his previous victim's wrist and lunged onto the half-wit. "You're really trying to piss me off, aren't you?" He snarled, shaking him.

"N-no K-katuso-sa… sama."

Furious beyond reason, he flung the man onto the nearest wall only a few feet away. There was a large crack as the tiny man broke his wrist when trying to stop his fall.

Ryozo's malicious smiled widened at the show of violence, giving him the appearance of a bloodthirsty fox. He idly wondered about how painful it would have been had the cretin been hurled through the glass windows of the store instead. Having shards of glass embedded in your back would be quite agonizing.

And the blood… He wet his lips.

Meanwhile, two of the hanger-ons rushed to support their friend as he cradled his injured limb.

Seeing that the upstart was alive and well, Katsuo strode away from the spot, grumbling all along as his worn-down trench coat bellowed behind him. The crowd – who had been drawn by the spectacle but had not dared interfere – immediately moved away from the foul-tempered man.

"So y'wanna know what it's gonna be like?" He growled out, looking almost feral. "Well, it's gonna be the usual stuff with father praising that blasted Raito like usual."

Had it been possible, the mood would have further darkened at the mention of _that_ name.

Raito was a subject that should _never_ be brought up in Katsuo-sama's presence. Their young leader despised his adoptive brother. He had almost even killed him once.

It was only such a shame that he had failed.

"Self-righteous prick! He just struts around as though he owns the place, with all his higher-than-thou attitude. If only Father wasn't so enamoured with that little slut. Oh when I take over, I'm gonna teach him his place. Y'think he's gonna like it at the Red Moon? Sucking people off is what he does best." He paused for a bit, before his face alighted with dangerous malice. "Or maybe I should just give him off to Chiba-san. I heard that that fat oaf has been after his piece of ass for quite a while."

His cowardly followers paled at these words. Raito-sama was off-limits to everyone. Hating and resenting him in private was one thing but to malign him in this manner – especially in the open – was a sure way to invite Takamiya-sama's wrath upon yourself. Even the boss' son hadn't been spared. He was missing the tip of his pinkie.

And he had gotten off lightly.

Often, Ryozo would inwardly lament the injustice in Takamiya-san's favouritism. For him to prefer the intelligent prodigious foundling was understandable but it was so unfair to his real son. After all, Ryozo had been counting on that idiot to ruin Japanese civilisation.

And now, that little upstart was under the leader's direct protection and he would ruin everything, wipe out his bloodied vision of the future.

Which Ryozo of course cannot allow.

As they approached the organisation's headquarters, the group's tension increased. If anyone heard Katsuo-sama disparaging precious Raito-kun, there would be hell to pay. Taichi, the peacemaker, immediately took upon the task of changing the subject once again. It wouldn't do for their friend to continue on with those comments.

"But I'm sure your brilliant plans for the organisation would overshadow everyone else's contribution at this meeting."

Ryozo would have snorted at that naïve presumption. As though those plans would ever be brilliant! And when Katsuo would have that fact shoved before his face – after another stern lecture from the old man –, he would be furious at Taichi. At that thought, he quickly schemed to be present at the scene of _that_ explosion.

Katsuo however immediately latched onto the new topic, proudly extrapolating – for the millionth time – on his proposal for the new pleasure house. All caught up in his grandiose vision, he never noticed the ploy as they stepped out of Shinjuku and into Chiyoda.

The change in the scenery had been gradual but already, a harsh difference could be felt between the two neighbouring special wards. Where one was ruled by Tokyo's nightlife, the other contained two of the metropolis' largest business districts and its political heart. The towering headquarters of multinationals loomed above the streets where harried white-collar workers hurried about on their businesses – often talking in their cell phone. They were like the little ants running the system and it would be _so_ entertaining to see their boring scheduled lives crushed. They may be too blind to notice, but their sources of income were at the mercy of the sokaiya.

As Katsuo parted from them and stepped into the Black Dragon's main office, Ryozo couldn't help but grin at the irony of its particular location. Situated at the border of the two wards, it seemed as though their leaders wanted to give the group a veneer of respectability by hiding themselves in the mist of all the other legal corporations. In addition, it then manages to keep an eye on both worlds and their different businesses partaking in them.

When the group departed from the premises, it separated. Some left for work, a couple accompanied the little half-wit to a nearby clinic, while Ryozo went off alone to seek some new form of entertainment. Before leaving though, he gave one last look to the imposing headquarters.

It was an ordinary-looking eight-stories building with large windows and guards as its entrance. It appeared no different than any other populating the busy streets of Tokyo. Yet, the wooden board on the front door openly displaying the group's name and its emblem – a black dragon curled around itself – arrogantly proclaimed otherwise.

Those inside were not part of the timid polite Japanese populace.

They were of the yakuza.

They were powerful. So there was no need to hide.

_Or so they believe._

* * *

Katsuo shrugged off his jacket and slumped down ungracefully on his seat, waiting for the meeting to resume. He knew he looked nothing like the proper heir to a large crime syndicate and he didn't care. The elderly may sputter and simmer in their indignation but he would not change.

He gave them an insolent look.

No, they were the ones who had to change if they didn't want to be kicked out. Not that he wouldn't rid himself of these old geezers anyway.

Annoyed and bored, Katsuo took out a new cigarette and lighted it up; ignoring the looks of disapproval his subordinates shot him.

_Well fuck them._

So what if they were a bunch of stuffy old men?

He did not give a damn about their opinion. Having to endure their grating self-important voices during the first half of the meeting _and_ the lunch break was enough. He was not about to become a good little boy and mingle.

Not like _perfect_ Raito-kun. The bitch seemed to be having the time of his lowly life wagging his tail and licking boots. He was prancing around from one man to the next and Katsuo idly wondered who the whore would seduce next.

At that thought, he grimaced and puffed out some smoke. As the dark stream of air rose up, Katsuo was suddenly tempted to prop his legs on top of the varnished surface of the conference table. It would be a blatant show of disrespect, one his inferiors cannot ignore. Maybe then, they'd finally realise how irritated he was by the never-ending round of social pleasantries and get a move on.

Katsuo chewed on the death stick. He could always hope.

Just as he was about to start on his second cigarette, the little groups started dispersing as everyone left to take their seat.

Raito of course seemed set to irritate him: his highness was taking his sweet time to finish flirting.

The small talk he was engaged in looked quite intimate as the two spoke in very low voices – almost whispers. Why Raito would be interested in Yamamoto – a short obese balding old man, without much wealth or even that much power in the organisation – was beyond Katsuo. Not that the thirty-year-old could judge as he was _NOT_ a queer. Still, he guessed that a whore never really cared whom it spread its legs to.

He snorted in disgust.

Finally, the little bitch left his father's lieutenant to his affairs and took his undeserving seat at the oyabun's side and opposite to him. Seeing that the meeting was about to restart, he looked away, snubbing his adoptive brother. It was degrading having to see that slut's filthy face across from his every time he looked up.

The conference was long, tedious and _so_ boring. All Katsuo wanted to do was sleep through it – and snore just to prove his point. Everyone had something to say, everyone wanted to say their part. And so it dragged on.

Ever since the first time he attended this affair, Katsuo had promised himself that he would never set up something so stupid and time wasteful. No, he would decide everything on his own. Screw those who would dare oppose him. Of course, there'd be a lot of reports to go through then but he can just delegate their reading to a couple of his minions and skim through only the most important ones.

His time was precious after all.

Already, he had tuned out most of the meeting. It was all useless dribble anyway. It was always the same thing.

Yes, they were prospering, but so what? Did they have to go on and on about it? Did Kurosaki have to give out the numbers? Did they have to go into the details? And most importantly, did they have to analyse every single current event, all the varying economies and politics around the world in depth?

Those things don't affect ordinary citizens so why would it have an impact on them?

Katsuo yawned and he didn't even bother to cover it up. As the debate died down when a conclusion was reached, the meeting turned towards the sticky matters of alliances and the group's network of connections. Although a tad more interested, the twenty-nine-year-old still didn't bother to listen to the majority of it. It wasn't like he knew most of these people.

Yamamoto was such a boring monotonous bastard. His voice droned on and on about the same subject, without any inflection for variation. Worst of all: he liked dragging out every itty bitty piece of detail to be analysed – whether it was pertinent or not.

As it was, it was a miracle Katsuo hadn't fallen asleep. He gave out another yawn for encouragement.

And although _he_ felt like he was dying of boredom as they went through the different crime organisations – from the local ones to those abroad –, that little bastard seemed to be thriving.

Every time, Raito had his own little piece to add and every time, his audience of decrepit old men listened to him raptly. And most of the time, they nodded their wrinkly heads at his words and followed his worthless advice.

Katsuo was completely repulsed.

_Really you prick, how many of them have fucked your scrawny ass?_

Why else would the higher-ups of their successful organisation listen to that slut? For his part, Katsuo blocked out the useless dribble coming out of Raito's dirty mouth. _He_ was the heir to the Black Dragon. _He_ would not let this upstart influence him.

And he would be sure to get rid of this pest when he took over.

"As for the Red Lotus, I felt that it is becoming far too bold. It is trying to expand, all the while encroaching on our territory. Like usual, Chiba-san seeks our business connections and our power."

At the mention of Chiba's name, Katsuo finally started paying attention.

"Nothing new there, really." Said his father.

All the men around the table chuckled at that for it was true. Chiba had always been a jealous bastard.

Katsuo scowled at their reaction though… this wouldn't do. After all, despite their leader being an annoying fat boor, he needed the Red Lotus' support for his plans to be implemented. He decided to interject. "I don't think you should dismiss him so quickly."

His father frowned in thought but at his side, Raito lifted an eyebrow in amusement, as though mocking him. His temper rose but he would not allow himself to react here, in his old man's presence.

"What plans of his have you come upon Katsuo?" The oyabun asked. His tone though calm seemed intrigued.

Katsuo grinned at his interest. _Ha!_

"Well, he approached me some time ago, proposing an alliance. As Yamamoto said earlier, he is seeking to expand his territory. Well, we met a few times last month to discuss it and I'm sure you'll like his proposal. As y'know, his girls are renowned for a type of services we do no offer and we're losing clientele because of that." He said, hesitating at parts so that he may censure his language for his elders' 'chaste ears'. _It was so annoying…_ "Plus, having little establishments only specialised in one or two trades can't really satisfy anyone."

He took a deep breath before continuing. His staged pause allowed him to look at each member of his audience in the eye. What he saw there was encouraging: they were all frowning, probably anticipating the greatness of his proposal. "We should instead open a large pleasure house where any kind of service can be bought for the right price. It would a mix of both our merchandises. Of course, it would be built on our territory so we'll have greater control over it. Not to mention that Chiba-san doesn't own a big enough lot or facility." He finished, snickering at his ally's lack of resources.

However, before any of his stunned listeners could praise him for his brilliant idea, that damn Raito spoke up.

"What you are planning is absurd." The little bitch actually had the gall to insult his plan. If glares could kill, Raito would have died ten times over by now. "First, knowing full well that Chiba-san covets _our_ territory, you want to allow him to establish a foothold here?" Asked Raito's incredulous voice.

But Katsuo wasn't listening because only one word in the reprimand struck him and it demanded all his attention and fury.

'_**Our'**__, you bastard? This territory, this organisation isn't yours. It's __**mine**__!!_

"Not only that, but having the building located in our territory forces us to take over most of its management and the costs – while he would reap a heap of the profit for virtually nothing. Of course, he would argue that he deserves his share of the revenue because we would be employing his people. Though true, this is only an excuse to have his followers infiltrate into our domain and gain influence there." Katsuo saw the fag pause for a bit, as though for dramatic effects. "One would then argue that we should build a versatile pleasure house without Chiba-san's help. Although it would get rid of the initial problems, such a concentration of sexual services would only lead to trouble. Already, the government is tightening the anti-prostitution laws. Our current businesses have been able to get around them through various loopholes but what Katsuo-san is proposing is a place where 'any kind of service can be bought for the right price'." He quoted, his last few words dripping with scorn.

"Such a large concentration of fuzoku would have the police knocking at our doors, no matter how many we have in our pockets." He sneered. "And had we been working conjointly with the Red Lotus, we would have taken the entirety of the blame. They may even demand reparation for our 'failure' at keeping the NPA away."

He didn't finish there.

"If that wasn't enough, the kind of pleasure house Katsuo-san is envisioning would reduce our profits, whether we are working with Chiba-san or not. As it would be located in our territory, it would mostly steal away _our_ regular customers while hardly affecting his. In addition, what earnings it would bring would be cut as the Red Lotus would demand their own share of the profit – all this at the cost of our other entertainment businesses. And you must not forget all the possible security leaks that may arise with his prostitutes spying on business dealings conducted there and how they would influence our clients in Chiba-san's favour.

"Truly, this enterprise that _you_ proposed," Raito announced looking straight into his eyes, before proceeding to address the rest of the table, "would only result in failure." He finished derisively.

His father nodded gravely in approval and actually gave Raito a _proud_ smile before turning to him, disappointment written all over his aging features. "Raito-kun is right. Katsuo..." he shook his head, "I do not know what you were thinking about. Instead of jumping into a deal, you should have done like Raito and explored all the possible consequences. You cannot only focus on the immediate gains."

Katuso ground his teeth together in anger. For his father to actually lecture him… to actually humiliate him before his subordinates like that… That brat sure was fucking with his old man's mind.

But it was no wonder. Rumours had it that the oyabun had been sleeping with his little pet.

His fist clenched at the image.

Had his father's threat not been looming over his head, he would have killed that bitch a thousand times over for screwing with his family. His life.

He may not love his old man – he was way to stuffy, old and severe – but he had respected him for his accomplishments. They may be outdated but hey, it was now _his_ turn to take over. And then, that brat came and seduced his father and…

God. If only he was dead…

He only had to lunge over that table, that one meter of wood that separated them. It would be so easy and oh so satisfying to actually strangle that whore, to wrap his fingers around that slender neck and feel his life-force leave. Though it'd be even better to see that self-pretentious prick brought down from his high-horse and reduced into the snivelling catamite he truly was.

If only…

Too caught up in his fantasies about the various tortures he would inflict on the bane of his existence, Katsuo paid no mind to the rest of the meeting. With his brilliant proposal shot down so brutally, why should he support anyone else's worthless ones? They were unable to appreciate true genius anyway.

Unlike _his_ immediate followers… though Taichi must be taught a lesson as well…

"That would be all for this session," concluded his father as he stacked his papers together. This gesture brought his eldest son out of his musings, "but before we leave," he added, "there is a matter of utmost importance you must be aware of. Some of you may have heard about a strange phenomenon taking place lately, about an increase in the number of heart attacks. I, along with a few of my associates, have examined it in details and it seems that since a few days ago, at every six hours, a criminal would die from a heart attack." He paused, letting his followers absorb his words.

The silence that wrapped around the room was tense. It felt like the situation would erupt at any given moment – as soon as someone regained his bearing. Most looked sceptical – it had to be a coincidence right? – while others, having noticed the pattern, were fearful at having their suspicions confirmed.

Katsuo was incredulous of course. He had noticed how Raito had paled at the news. It must have been some lie he had fed his father, that little bastard.

Before anyone could say a word, Takamiya continued. "It is not a lie. The governments have been keeping it quiet for now in order to avoid causing a mass panic. But my contacts have confirmed my suspicions. Lately, there have been a few suspicious deaths by cardiac arrest, all of well-known murderers or rapists. And starting from midnight GMT, each has died exactly six hours apart from the other. To the second. You may think this is a coincidence and that we are simply filling in the gaps of this conspiracy. Yet, those men were all in their primes and were killed in public – where they were quickly found by the local law enforcement." He stopped his revelation to look at each of his men gravely. "These murders would soon come out, no matter how hard the governments are trying to cover it up. The media is already suspicious.

"What I want now is your input. The underground would not escape unscathed when someone or some group is so set on eliminating criminals. What do you propose our course of action should be?"

Pandemonium broke up. What came out was nothing of value.

"Disband!"

"What are you saying?"

"We won't be scared by this sham!"

"Let's lay low for a while…"

Many stubbornly disbelieved what was happening while the rest were panicking. After all, how do you stop an unknown killer or organisation? How would an entire _organisation_ of criminals escape intact?

As their leader's son just watched on bored – this was only a filthy lie after all, so there was no need to react –, Raito suddenly spoke up.

"Takamiya-sama," he uttered cautiously, bowing his head low. _Ha! So you're admitting your lie now, are you? Wonder how father would punish you…_ "I too had noticed the disturbance. I had thought to tell you about it in private, but…" he tilted his head and pointed towards the arguing yakuza. At his action, they actually had the nerve to look chastise – _how the heck did he manage to brainwash them all?_ – and to quiet down. "From what I saw and as you've stated before, all those who have died are high-profiled criminals. Their records have been publicized in the media and could easily be accessed. In addition, most are murderers and/or rapists. This means our organisation as a whole is quite safe. We simply have to be more cautious in our dealings and refrain from killing – or at least getting caught in the act."

He paused for a bit, his disgustingly pretty brows furrowed in thought. "If we examine the situation closely, this series of murders may actually be beneficial to the Black Dragon. If you think about it, common criminals would feel threatened and would seek large syndicates for protection. This would allow us to control a larger portion of the underworld's population. As long as we do not actually attract this new killer's attention, we may even thrive. The only ones in danger are known criminals."

As Raito finished, a feeling of relief swept through the crowd. The oyabun placed a pleased hand on his bed-warmer's shoulder.

Katsuo wanted to gag.

Or better yet, he wanted to find a whore and fuck her senseless. If only killing _this_ whore was an option.

* * *

Hyuk. Hyuk. Hyuk.

Five days have passed since he had dropped his notebook on Earth. It was time to see how that little experiment had turned out.

Swooping through the human world's clear blue skies, the difference between the two realms was all too clear. And with such a difference in the atmosphere, the inhabitants must be quite different as well.

After all, when he had looked down at these little creatures from his home world, they had all seemed so absorbed in their tiny affairs. They were determined to succeed in their goals – no matter the cost. Yet, in spite of all their achievements and advancements, they each only had a finite number of days left to their existence.

With a weapon like the Death Note in their hands, Ryuk could not help but anticipate the chaos that would result from it.

He turned left, his gangly body barely avoiding the top of one of the many skyscrapers littering the streets.

He had heard many tales about what happened when Death Notes ended in the human realm. Often, rather than giving out the juicy details, the shinigami involved would bemoan the difficulty at reacquiring the notebook but he still got the gist of it.

Typically, the new mortal owners killed. Some killed for revenge, others for love. Some did it for their ambitions. And usually, with such a perfect tool at their disposal, the true killer was never caught. Still, from what he has heard, the way officials scurried around trying to track down the murderer – all of it in vain – was quite amusing.

Plus, observing these 'live' human beings up close was far funner than watching shinigami gamble.

He did not care who would pick it up or how the human was going to use the Death Note to kill. As long as they wrote in it, he was happy.

And if that wasn't the case, it'd be such a waste – especially if whoever found it refused to give it up.

_That_ would be troublesome.

He swerved left again. Slowly following the tugging feeling that came from the 'lost' notebook, he saw the landscape under him change as he left downtown Tokyo to reach the more residential areas. The inhabitants of this neighbourhood must be quite well off since large traditional Japanese complexes now sprawled upon the ground.

The sensation further intensified as he approached one particularly 'fortified' estate. Numerous guards dressed in suits were boringly watching over the property. Not that these sentinels stopped Ryuk from entering. After all, he was invisible to all humans except one – and those who touched the Death Note.

He gave a strange lopsided grin as he hovered in the air some more, taking note of his surroundings.

It seemed like he was in for some fun. With a house this well guarded, the human was definitely going to use the book. Whether he was a lowly servant, a bodyguard or even the mighty proprietor, any of those would have sufficient reasons to kill. They led dangerous lives. They had enemies.

He couldn't believe his luck.

For his notebook to be picked up by one of these men – and not just another boring normal citizen (like a _high school student_) – sure was fortunate.

Seeing as the owner was further down the mansion, he left the guards to their devices and followed the bond once more. It brought him to a secluded section of the estate. Sitting at the edge of the property, this small wing was quite isolated, with the surrounding trees delimitating the property's borders. No servants nor guards hovered around. The tug intensified. There. The notebook was in this very room.

Ryuk landed on the ground, barely noticing the koi pond occupying a corner of the quiet garden, where fish lazily swam in circles. _Hmmm…_ He poked around for a bit. It seemed like the easiest accesses were all closed. The curtains were drawn and even the windows were shut.

_Seems like the new owner hates visitors._ His smile widened into a grotesque grimace. _Well too bad!_

Jumping up, he flapped his wings a few times and landed on the rooftop. If his host hated guests so much, he may as well make a dramatic entrance. Slowly, his body slid through the tiled roof, head first of course – he wouldn't want to be caught unaware. For shinigami, passing through physical barriers in the human realm was quite unpleasant: it felt as though you were sinking through an extremely dense liquid or better yet, through quicksand.

Still, it was a neat little trick.

He hoped to terrify the Death Note's new owner by appearing like that.

Hyuk. Hyuk.

It wasn't every day that a Death God came for a visit.

To his disappointment however, the human's back was facing him and he had not noticed the intrusion. The youth was working on one of those shiny new human contraptions – a computer if he wasn't mistaken. His fingers were flying around, producing a quick regular tap, tap sound, only pausing at parts. Next to him lay the Death Note.

_Ah. So he did use it and had not been repulsed by it._

Had either not been the case, the notebook would have been stored away, not placed so easily within reach – as though its owner was planning to write in it again.

Another long sequence was typed in and on that glaringly bright screen, a new image popped up. It was evident that the computer would be what drew Ryuk's attention as all else in the room was cast in darkness. The shinigami found it strange that with his L-shaped desk located right under such large windows, the human would forego sunlight.

Though the rest of the room wasn't much more festive. All four walls and all available space were covered with bookshelves brimming with knowledge. Instead of decorations ornamenting the room, there were tomes on every subject and in what seemed to be various languages. The only exception would be the beautiful painting of a landscape hanging above his headboard.

And had the bed been absent, Ryuk would have thought this to be a study, not a bedroom.

_Unless humans liked to sleep in their offices?_

_Well_, he shrugged, _some did have peculiar habits._

Finally, the coloured screen stopped flickering between various displays and the brunette turned towards his notebook.

He opened it, reached for a pencil, paused, with his hand hovering a few centimetres above the page, sighed and then finally wrote.

_Strange reaction from a strange human…_ He seemed resigned as he killed, as though it was a duty more than anything – neither a pleasure nor a relief.

Nor did he seem afraid of the power of the Death Note.

Strange, strange.

Just as strange as having such an utilitarian, westernised study-bedroom in such a traditional Japanese estate.

Deciding to at last quench his curiosity, Ryuk placed a hand on the mortal's shoulder and spoke. "Hehe. So how are you enjoying the Death Note?"

As soon as the shinigami touched him, the human immediately turned around, his arm rising into an attack. He immediately stopped in his strike when he saw the creature hovering behind him.

There were no screams, no cries of 'Monster!'. Though his face maintained its shocked look and his entire body was as tense as a spring, the human neither panicked nor cowered in fear. His stunned expression even started to fade after a few seconds as comprehension slowly settled in.

Had he been able to, Ryuk would have pouted.

"You are the shinigami who owns this notebook, right?" The boy asked, nodding to the black notebook resting on the desk behind him. A cool mask had settled about him. He seemed set to approach this encounter as a business matter.

Ryuk did not know what to make of him. He was shrewd for sure. Very adaptive and calculating. A good owner for the notebook… but how would he use it really?

No matter what, he doubted he'd be bored with this – he glanced up at the boy's face… Yagami Raito.

"You're right. I am shinigami Ryuk. Seems like you have realised that ain't no normal notebook."

Especially with that deliciously long lifespan. If the human was as cunning as he seemed, he doubted anyone would truly be able to pry the notebook away from him. It would be fun to witness all the damage he would cause until he died – which would be quite far off.

Yes, he'd have quite some time to hang around here.

"No. It isn't, is it?" Raito's tone softened slightly as he glanced down at the Death Note, a sad smile adorning his pretty face. "And even a shinigami has come now. So what happens to me…? Is my soul taken?" He asked as his voice gained a self-depreciating edge.

"Huh? What's that?" Ryuk cocked his head to a side. "Wild human imagination? I won't do anything to you." He grinned. "Once the Death Note lands in the human world, it belongs to that world."

Realisation slowly dawned on the human's face as his eyes widened. "…"

"It's now yours." He finished with a finger pointing at the brunette.

"… Mine?"

His fists clenched as he looked away. Ryuk was confused. Why had the human sounded so grief-stricken, so pathetic when he had seemed so strong ago? When he had used the Death Note only a few minutes back? Well, that was no concern of his but if Raito couldn't handle the notebook, that would be quite problematic. "If you don't want it then give it to someone else." He told him uncaringly. "Though if that happens, I will erase your memories concerning the Death Note."

Then, in order to change the subject – he would not let the human's doubts spoil his fun –, he decided to draw Raito's attention into other matters. Explaining their bond was pretty simple though the child seemed quite disturbed by it.

Still, the brunette stayed fixated on one issue. "So there's really no price for using the Death Note?" For some odd reason, his voice grew even more mournful.

Having had enough of that, Ryuk decided that he may as well be truthful. No need for the boy's to keep pondering on this so-called 'price' and ruin his fun. He cocked his head to the side, thinking. "Well… you could say… the stress and fear that's only experienced by the human using the notebook… and… when you die," _Which wouldn't happen as long you provide me with some entertainment… _"I'll be writing your name in my notebook, but…" Here, he looked straight into Raito's eyes, their faces mere centimetres apart, "don't think a human who uses the Death Note gets to go to heaven or hell."

He looked away for a moment, eyes distant, and then nodded.

"That's it."

Raito immediately scrambled back, or as far as his chair and desk would permit him to. A hysterical, desperate shaking overtook his willowy frame.

_Huh? He finally cracked._

Thinking the child finally afraid, Ryuk added non-reassuringly. "Something to look forward to when you die." He guffawed.

However, his judgement had been wrong. Half-sobs half-chuckles came out of Raito's mouth. "So that's it? No heaven? No _hell_ even?" He cried out bitterly. Leaning over his desk, his free hand brushed a few stray strands of hair back. "I should have known that no true justice exists, even in death." He mumbled to himself, his eyes narrowing.

The silence was heavy.

After a while, as though remembering he had an audience, the human finally turned towards the shinigami once more. "Then… one more thing." He asked softly, strained. There was a plea in his voice, one of desperation. Yet, a deep resentment was also faintly bubbling underneath. "Why did you choose _me_?"

"Huh?" Ryuk was confused at that simple question. _What does…?_

He chuckled at the human's naivety. As though he would 'choose' anyone! "Kuku. Don't be conceited. I only dropped the notebook. You think you were chosen? It just happened to fall there…" he paused for a bit, letting the child absorb the reality of the situation, "and _you_ just happened to find it… that's why I put the explanation in the most popular language, English."

Raito slumped down on the back of his seat, shocked. His expression darkened and there was an edge of threat in his voice. "Then why did you drop it?" He hissed out. "Including an explanation like that, it can't be an accident." Had Ryuk been able to see the human's eyes, he would have flinched. They were murderous, like those of a caged animal.

"Why…?" The corner of his grotesque lips quirked up. "Because I was bored." Such a simple statement… yet it perfectly summed up the situation. But still, for being so entertaining and intriguing, this human deserved a more elaborate answer. "This may sound strange coming from a shinigami but… I just didn't feel alive…

"Being a shinigami these days is so boring. We're either sleeping or gambling. You write a few human names in the Death Note and they laugh at you for working so hard. Killing guys from the human world from the shinigami world isn't fun at all. Plus writing shinigami names in the notebook doesn't do anything. I figured it would be more fun to be down here."

Seeing Raito's closed-off expression and disappointed that the human didn't react more at his grand declaration, he casually picked up the Death Note and flipped it open.

He was shocked.

"Whoa… this is amazing!" He exclaimed as he saw all that was written down. "I'm the one surprised! I've heard many stories of the Death Note falling to the human world, but you're the first one to do this much in only five days. A normal person would be too freaked out to go this far."

Maybe that was the reason behind all of Raito's weird reactions. He wasn't normal. _Well_, Ryuk thought grinning broadly, _normal is boring._

As he looked up, Ryuk saw that Raito looked resigned. "Well, I'm not normal," he spat out, echoing the shinigami's earlier thoughts. "Obviously, I didn't believe it at first but that notebook has a power that makes you want to try it. I did evidently." He gave a mirthless laughter. "And it worked."

_Huh? If he didn't like killing, why would he continue?_ Ryuk scratched the back of his head with his claw.

"I killed again. For something as petty as my curiosity. Of course, I've killed before, but never like this." He shook his head, his voice brimming with self-hatred. He was waiting for a condemnation that his listener could not, would not grant him. After all, what would a god of death know of morals? Ryuk was far more likely to rejoice in your and others' pain then to chastise you for it. "Never." His tone was final.

Still, the shinigami could not help but be surprised. So his Death Note made its way into the hands of a killer? Who hated killing? He scratched his chin.

"I had ideals once, you know." He told Ryuk, staring straight at him. "I was such a naïve fool. When I was young, I wanted to join the NPA, to fight for justice… and look at me now!" He snarled. "A killer, a criminal, the cherished son of a yakuza leader. But if you want the truth," a corner of his lips quirked up, "I am nothing but a filthy murderer. A coward.

"Had the justice system been any good, I would have been rotting in jail by now. Instead, I was just handed a new means to kill. Easy, efficient and impersonal. I guess that's the value of human lives these days!" He looked off into the distance. "Nothing but a toy to the powerful."

He exhaled. "Still, somewhere deep inside, I am still that naïve fool. I am still dreaming of justice. Perhaps I _will_ make a difference. Perhaps by sending out my message, by systematically killing off criminals through heart attacks every six hours, perhaps they would know. And learn and change." Raito finished, slumping down. He stared down at his hands, refusing to look at the death god as the truth rang clearly between them.

_Or perhaps it would make no difference._

Yet, Ryuk cared not about the human's dilemma. In fact, it just made the convoluted situation all the more interesting.

Still, he felt the need to answer. "Then you'll be the only bastard left…"

Not exactly cheerful, but it would do.

And strangely enough, Raito laughed, clear, carefree and somewhat wildly. "Of course. But I already am a bastard, aren't I?"

And in response, Ryuk grinned.

_Humans, though dramatic and confusing, are simply so much fun!_

* * *

_He escaped on the 10__th__ of November at 1 AM. The guard was bribed but doesn't know where he went._

_95 chance – no 99.7 after what happened recently – Rousseau is still in Paris. He had never liked travelling much, whether it was for business or pleasure. And he knows all the nooks and crannies in the city._

L bit his thumb, as he went through all the facts again in his mind. _He raped and killed another woman on the 22__nd__. Mélanie Chantelle. Blond, shoulder-length hair, five feet four, a hundred and twenty pounds. Twenty-two years old. _

_She was walking back home from a club._

_Same pattern as his previous murders._

Catching the criminal again wouldn't be easy. Before, all L had to do was find the links between the multiple killings and narrow it down to a suspect, all the while digging out for clues. Michel Rousseau may have been living amongst the two million citizens of Paris, but he hadn't been truly hiding.

Now he was. As an architect and a man who worked on the sewage system of the capital, he knew most of the underground's secrets. It would be hard to track down one man amongst this labyrinth but already, he had managed to confine the hunt to a few areas.

The sacrifice of Miss Chantelle had made the task even easier. Where she had died, the ground was slightly wet although it hadn't rained for a few days, and the sewer grate wasn't fixed as tightly as it should have been.

He knew which section of that underground maze the mass murderer inhabited now.

This knowledge made it all worth it: the girl's death and even the media's uproar at the news. They had managed to keep it quiet that Rousseau had escaped but with the rapes and killings resuming, it could no longer stay the case. A young journalist had been present when the corpse was found and soon enough, the truth could no longer be hidden.

It was annoying, it was frustrating, but it didn't matter.

The issue would be dealt with soon enough and he would quickly move on.

The only remaining obstacle was the sudden change in the criminal's pattern. One of the teams they had sent down the sewers had found Rousseau's hideout this morning. It was a damp little room, well hidden, with some old furniture inside.

But the man was absent.

And hadn't come back yet. He may have gotten a hint of what was happening, there may be a rat... but then, why would he leave only today?

After all, the task force had been sent down on the 22nd. He should have left and been long gone by the time the team had found his den. This had not been the case. The date on the crumpled newspaper left on the folding table attested to it. It was from this morning.

L gnawed on his thumb some more as he looked down on the lights of Paris, clearly annoyed. It was as though Rousseau was taunting him.

Instead of fleeing the country – as many escaped convicts would have done – he stayed. He killed a girl and then left just as L was about to catch him.

Still, the detective would have the final word.

He had never lost before and this would not be the first case.

Suddenly a slight ringing came from his laptop on the floor. He frowned. Preferring to be alone in the solitude of his mind, L had reminded Watari not to contact him until there was some significant clue or another murder.

He somehow doubted that the French investigators had anything for him. As for Rousseau, for him to kill so soon again would be far too bold. It would not fit his profile.

Pouting, he left the windows and crouched back down next to his laptop. "L speaking."

"L," said Watari's mechanical voice, sounding uncertain. "Michel Rousseau just died."

The detective's fingers clenched together. "What do you mean he just died?"

"Exactly what I said. A hooded man seen walking down the streets today suddenly collapsed. The people next to him panicked and called the ambulance but it was too late. He died of a heart attack at exactly 7 PM. The corpse had been identified as Rousseau."

"A heart attack," L repeated.

Watari nodded. "Yes."

"7 PM?" He bit his thumb once again, this time with more force as his irritation grew. "That would be 6 PM GMT. So it would another one of _those_."

"I thought so too. I checked Rousseau's medical records. No high blood pressure or heart troubles in his or his family's histories."

Of course. And had there been such health problems, it would still be too suspicious to be dismissed as a 'natural' death. L scowled.

Well, this case had somehow become personal. This strange killer had robbed him of _his_ criminal. It was about time he truly started investigating, especially with the Rousseau case now wrapped up.

"Watari," he ordered as he stood back up. "Pack up. We're done here."

"You want to work on the 'heart attacks'?" His subordinate asked, already anticipating his desires.

"Yes. Keep watch on Interpol. The governments would soon have to face the truth and intervene."

"Understood."

And with that, Watari signed off.

L looked back out the windows, watching the city he would soon be leaving. Lovers were casually strolling around, content. _Well, they were safe from Rousseau now_, L thought bitterly.

But there was a much larger threat on the loose. Someone who thought of himself as a God while he indiscriminately punished criminals. Someone who would not even give them proper justice.

He had noticed the strange deaths for a few days now and had worked on the case on the sidelines. After all, Rousseau had demanded his immediate attention. And despite his gut certainty, that string of deaths may still have been a series of coincidences – a very unlikely one, only 8.

However, now that this pretentious mass murderer had 'solved' his case for him, he was free to concentrate all his effort on this so-called god.

And L would reveal to him the _true_ meaning of justice… when he delivered him to the execution chamber served on a plate.

* * *

That night, Raito could not sleep. He lay on his sides, curled up around himself as usual – a disgustingly pathetic habit he had not been able to get rid of – and his mind in turmoil.

He hated himself.

He could not believe how wretchedly and emotionally he had acted before Ryuk. He had cried out, revealed his hearts' secrets. And though he had kept many of his larger plans and doubts dissimulated deeply in his soul, he had still confided himself to that grinning idiot.

How could he have broken down like that?

He bit his lips.

Maybe… just maybe he had been stretched too thin with the yakuza and especially that Death Note business. At least his plans with the organisation were going as he wished. Even though Katsuo had tried to establish a new whorehouse, he had managed to stop him. There was nothing he hated more than the degradation that came from the sex trade. Raito may have accepted its necessity but to see to its expansion was something he would like to avoid. Especially with the type of 'services' Katsuo was so determined to provide.

He shuddered.

No. The youth could not understand the fascination others had over carnal pleasure. It was messy, it was wild, it was degrading. He hated the fact that the yakuza would trick poor foreign women into prostitution. Had they acceded to Katsuo's request, he did not know how many more would have been forced into that position.

And then… there was Rousseau. He had gone over his earlier ritual that night, before he had tried to fall asleep, but still the mass murderer haunted his thoughts.

He knew that it may have been a bit harsh to judge him, that maybe he should have left the French judicial system take care of him – as they would have soon caught him… but Raito couldn't. When he had heard that the _rapist_ was out on the loose and that there was already one victim, he knew he had to act.

Despite every fibre of his being screaming for him to kill the man right away, he did not listen to it. He had researched the case in detail, he had looked for all the evidence – even the one kept in the French police record – and finally, having found such irrefutable proof, the young yakuza had written his name down. Ryuk had then shown up.

The shinigami… he did not know what to think of him. For him to drop a weapon on Earth simply because he was bored, it was outrageous. To have been forced into this position, to have his conscience and survival instincts tearing him apart like this…

… it was pure torture.

But it was better than leaving the Death Note in another's hands.

And even though he did not deserve to wield its power, at least he wasn't stupid or idealistic enough to abuse of it. Or at least he hoped so.

As he had told Ryuk earlier, he would try to warn off the criminals by eliminating the worst ones – and especially those who have escaped through the failings of the judicial system. The lesser ones would be scared away or would seek large crime syndicates for protection. And from there, Raito would try to reform the underground. Already, he had gained much influence in the Black Dragon.

He was certain that he can tame down many of their 'vital' businesses, as he had done with the fuzoku. And maybe… if it became _truly_ necessary, he could still use the Death Note…

He shuddered.

Only if there was no other way…

"Raito…" a drowsy voice mumbled out, "are you having trouble sleeping?"

The boy bowed his head in shame. "Yes Takamiya-sama," he murmured softly, "I am sorry I woke you up."

"It is no matter." The oyabun told him softly, lightly stroking his naked skin.

To be reduced to this…

"My little angel…" He whispered, punctuating each word with a kiss on his spine, "my sweet fallen angel..."

Raito had already given up all his previous ties and his conscience in order to survive and reach his ambitions. But it somehow hadn't been enough. Or it had been until that night…

And now, he had no pride left. To live, to thrive, for Takamiya-sama's trust and confidence, he had utterly submitted himself. He had whored himself entirely – all of him, body, mind and soul.

All, except a tiny sliver from his past self that only in these last few days had he rediscovered.

Gently, the elder man swept the brunet into a kiss, drowning himself in the youth's taste. Raito did not react to the embrace, but forced himself to submit to it and to give out the semblance of pleasure. As his adoptive father's hands kept caressing his back, he shuddered. There lay the tattoo of wings and death and ownership that Takamiya-sama had insisted on gifting him… or on branding him.

He was no longer his own person, but somehow, he now held hope.

And Raito hoped frantically, desperately, that with the Death Note – with that notebook from hell –he may find himself again…

And mayhap find the sweet embrace of redemption.

* * *

**A/N:** Ha! An update finally. I know it took a while but this is _quite_ a long chapter. You would not believe how many rewrites it had to go through.

Anyway, lots of OCs being introduced. Hope you aren't annoyed, but I think this makes the lot of them. BTW, you probably recognized it, but a good portion of Raito and Ryuk's meeting is quoted from the manga. What changed mostly was _how_ Raito said those lines and his reactions.

Besides that, I don't know if you guys have noticed, but some of the lesser characters are NOT OCs. Tamiya from Sekimaru-Corp had been killed by Yotsuba in canon and Ross' organisation was the one who kidnapped Sayu.

Okay. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and as I said before, L's finally made an appearance!

Thank you all for your support and reviews. Comments and criticisms are much appreciated and I would love to hear from you.

**One last note: do you get lockers in university? Can you get one somehow? This little point may become quite relevant to the plot later on.**

_Edited 06/05/08_


	4. Of Justice and Punishment

Chapter 3

Of Justice and Punishment

* * *

_**March 6**__**th**__** 1998**_

He knew what he had to do.

He may not like it, but already, Kohashi Makoto had broken the oyabun's trust far too many times these past few weeks – all because of one _annoying_ _deceiving_ little brat. He scowled. That little stunt a week ago had topped all the others.

After all, _he_ had gotten off scot-free, leaving his elders to suffer for his antics. This time, it had gone too far. Watanabe had died. One of _their own_ has lost their life for the worthless hide of that spoiled son of a police officer.

Had revenge been possible, the yakuza would have made the imp pay. But no. Somehow, the kid had wormed his way into the kumicho's interest and Makoto would not allow himself to fail his boss again.

Not after all the man had done for him.

The venerable leader had invited him into his organisation when his life had been in shambles and he would forever be indebted to him for that.

With his set of parents, his childhood had not been a memorable one. When drunk, his father was abusive and he was _constantly_ drunk. At least his mother had escaped the violence, as she was always out with one of her various varying boyfriends. Not that he blamed her. But still, his screwed up family had left its mark on him and he had promised himself to turn out better than them. Thus, barely passed his mid-teens, Makoto had left home to make his own fortune.

And failed.

He had sunk into drugs and petty crimes. He had wasted whatever had been left of his youth by joining a small gang in its turf wars – while letting his mind and reason rot away through crack, ice an other such shit. The then seventeen-year-old would have died in the slums of society, without knowing any better, had it not been for Takamiya-sama.

It had been a coincidence. A fluke. A twist of fate.

And he had never stopped thanking providence ever since.

The details of that evening were muddled in his mind, his recollection of the momentous event practically non-existent. He had been drunk and under the surreal influence of drugs when he had stumbled his way into a major shoot-out on his way back to his dump of an apartment.

Two major crime syndicates were waging war in that little alley.

However, Makoto had not known that. All he knew was that he wanted to get home and would do so, whether the world was ending or not. He had staggered into the combat zone and by some miracle, he had tripped over and pushed the oyabun of the Black Dragon out of the way, just as a bullet had been about to pierce into his heart.

It had hit Makoto instead and although he had been pissed off at first – as he could not comprehend why his right shoulder hurt and burned like hell – , he had never since regretted the injury.

As he had lain on the cool pavement bleeding his life out and _cursing_ his breath out, the situation had wrapped out quickly enough. Takamiya-sama's men had been winning. Thus, with their spirits fired up by the near death of their boss, rounding up the cowards to be executed had become a very simple matter.

As soon as this unpleasant business was completed, the oyabun had rushed his inadvertent saviour to his private doctor. For the first time in his life, Makoto met someone who actually cared, or at least cared enough to inquire whether he lived or died. It had been a novel experience, having the honourable leader of the Black Dragon look over his treatment and even his rehabilitation. Takamiya-sama may have only managed to spare a few minutes a day to visit him, but that small moment of contact had still been better than the all-encompassing neglect of his family.

As Makoto had saved his life from certain death, Takamiya-sama had saved his from further degradation. He had served the man faithfully ever since and although his leader had never shown his appreciation, Makoto knew deep down how much he was valued.

And now, he had failed.

Utterly, completely failed.

His left hand, lying on top of the tiny kitchen table, clenched into a fist, the nails biting into his skin.

Twice, the brat had almost escaped. The first time – though highly inconvenient – was justifiable. After all, they had all underestimated him – and Takakamiya-sama had even been amused by the boy's failed attempt.

The second time, Watanabe was the one who had received the brunt of the punishment. It had taken place during his shift and once again, they had misjudged the lengths the brat would take to reach his freedom. His subordinate had been tricked – never once guessing that a mere child would put his life at risk by undergoing such a futile endeavour – and would later be found unconscious, a huge lump on his temple.

Yet, the little rascal never made it past his room. Makoto had been returning to his post at that very instant and caught the fugitive just as he was about to leave his prison.

The two had been punished. Watanabe, and especially the brat.

It had been particularly satisfying flogging the twelve-year-old's unmarked back. It was justice. The whelp deserved it for all the trouble he had caused them. Although the whelp had tried to stop his cries, he had not managed and tears had been shamefully leaking out under his closed eyelids by the time Makoto was done.

Tears of pain? Tears of mortification?

Makoto had not cared to find out, but now, he would have liked to know, to have better savoured his suffering.

After all, it was all _his_ fault.

And his own.

The yakuza should not have left him in only Watanabe and Mitsui's – or whatever his name was – presence. He should have seen through the ploy. After all, he had been suspicious.

_So WHY_ hadn't he listened to his instincts?

Instead, Watanabe was dead; the brat had almost been kidnapped. Makoto had failed. Takamiya-sama's plans for the child could have been reduced to ruins because of his negligence – all those relinquished cargos of drugs would then have been for naught.

But no. Somehow, the boy had had a change of heart. Or something. He had killed his would-be kidnapper. He had pulled the trigger and killed the man in cold blood. He had not let himself be taken away when Makoto had all but allowed it with his foolish, imprudent actions.

And thus, he had completely fallen out of favour while Takamiya-sama's fascination with the brat had only grown.

Where Makoto had been discarded, the imp was now valued above all other. He had seen Takamiya-sama's calculating expression as he looked down upon his newest acquisition. He had also seen the fury and disappointment in his gaze when those eyes turned to him.

And although he knew that the oyabun had not completely given up on him and that he wouldn't be executed for his failure, he had still lost the man's trust.

The yakuza took a deep breath.

No. He _would_ regain it but it would not be easy. He would have to live with the sudden reversal in the brat's situation. He would have to work harder… despite his hatred for the child.

But first, he had to ask for forgivness.

Resigned to his decision, Makoto opened his eyes and repositioned the palm of his hand on the clean cloth. His free hand trembled slightly as it reached out for the tanto but as soon as he gripped its hilt, his hold turned firm.

Yubitsume was an ancient form of penance and apology that was still present in the yakuza today. The top joint of the little finger was ceremoniously severed, signifying a weakening of the hand – and thus the sword grip in the case of the ancient warriors of the past.

Yubitsume, the only apology his master would accept.

He raised his knife and in one felled stroke, it came slicing down, swift and merciless. The edge glinted in the morning sun and then no more, drenched as it was in crimson.

No longer shining.

There was no coming back from his decision.

* * *

_**March 7**__**th**__** 1998**_

Block. Kick. Block. Dodge. Punch.

Makoto stood silent at his leader's side as Takamiya-sama watched his little protégé in his first martial arts lesson. The boy's form was graceful, controlled and fluid – the perfect textbook example. It however lacked the aggression true fighters would have gained through experience.

And although Makoto was against further arming an already pesky annoyance, he did not say a word. Takamiya-sama had his own plans after all. Who was _he_ to criticize them?

"Good. I see that Raito-kun is still quite proficient despite having quit training after only three years," came his boss' quiet observation.

The bodyguard did not respond as that remark required no reply. He did quietly sigh in relief though, since this little comment – although about the brat – did acknowledge his presence.

Even though the oyabun had accepted his act of penance, the man's stony mask had not changed when he beheld the severed fingertip. No acknowledgement, nothing whatsoever. Only a quiet order to resume his duties – regarding Raito-kun and his new schedule.

A near hit on the chest but the brat jumped back in time, panting.

His boss had decided that, in order to reward the imp's 'loyalty' and 'brutality', many of his restrictions would be lifted. While he was still under twenty-four hours surveillance, he would have more freedom and his studies would broaden. They would actually encompass other subjects than languages – much more useful ones that would in fact border the organisation's business.

Makoto disapproved but did not voice it.

The boy fell on his back but didn't stop to take a breath, immediately scrambling away at the incoming fist. His face lost its serenity as the determined glint was joined by childish spite. His moves quickened, fuelled by other motives than discipline. It was wilder, more primal – the youngster foregoing the standard katas that he had previously executed so flawlessly, though inefficiently.

"Yes, he would do quite well once he no longer suppresses his ruthless nature," Takamiya-sama shared as he turned to look at his subordinate. "Do you not think so Kohashi-kun?"

_And we would do even better once we are rid of him_, Makoto though uncharitably, glowering.

After all, what use did a twelve-year-old child – especially one who had already caused them so much trouble – have anyway?

He may be smart – maybe even a genius – but he was still a snot-nosed kid with no real life experience and only a bunch of childish delusions. They were wasting resources on him that could be better spent elsewhere.

Like all the profits they could have generated from the sale of all those caches of shabu they had to relinquish in order to keep the pest.

"Kohashi-kun, no need to scowl." Takamiya-sama's steely command startled him out of his reverie. "Hate the child as much as your heart desires," his subordinate winced, "but I will not allow such a blatant show of animosity from your part. Rein in your emotions before they start interfering with your duty… or I will do so for you."

His eyes narrowed. "You do want to fail me again now, do you?"

Makoto cringed.

His boss was far too perceptive and he too expressive. After all, there was a little storm cloud hovering around his head ever since he had to lay eyes on the brat.

"Of course, oyabun-sama." He answered demurely, inclining his head.

"See that it does not happen again."

At that instant, the boy was hit by a vicious chop on his arm. He bit back a cry, clutching his injured limb. But before he could recover, a punch to the stomach swiftly followed, and another. The child choked, doubling over. Makoto involuntarily flinched at such a brutal onslaught, while his leader simply hummed at his side, content with the session's progression.

Yet, the boy shakily tried to get up again, his eyes having lost none of its defiance. He was immediately kicked back down.

And each time his pain-wracked form tried to resume the fight, he was promptly put down. It was no longer the calculated exchange of blows this 'lesson' had started off as, or the one-sided ruthless slaughter it had escalated into. It was a show of dominance in its purest and cruellest form.

Nevertheless, the boy had contained himself. He did not plead, did not beg. He accepted the abuse through silently gritting teeth, his eyes spitting venom at his aggressor.

Before the martial arts master could continue any further in his vicious assault, his master finally moved in to stop him.

"Enough Watase-sensei. I trust you have sufficiently evaluated Raito-kun's skills and deficiencies."

A slight bow. "Yes Takamiya-sama."

"Good, you may leave." Then he turned towards the child kneeling on the floor, glancing down at him dismissively. "I do not want to witness such an unseemly show again. You are learning to fight, not to trade blows. I will not stop Watase-sensei the next time you fail to apply yourself." He warned. "Now get up."

As the child feebly got back on his feet, all the while leaning on the wall for support, his head bowed down in shame, Takamiya-sama turned to address Makoto.

"Take him down to the infirmary. Let the nurse look over his injuries, but do not give him anything for his pain." He ordered. "After all, I do not accept weaklings."

And as their leader left them, Makoto could not help but admire the lengths he would go to to draw out the boy's aggression. And although he rejoiced at seeing the little rascal in pain, he could easily see how dangerous a game the oyabun was playing.

Too far… and he may break his new toy.

However, when the brat finally lifted his head, it was neither shame nor pain he was hiding, but childish resentment.

Well, he may glower all he wished. Makoto would be watching him.

As caught up as he was in his presumptions, the bodyguard never noticed the calculating thoughts racing through the young prodigy's mind.

* * *

_Therefore, a prince, so long as he keeps his subjects united and loyal, ought not to mind the reproach of cruelty; because with a few examples he will be more merciful than those who, through too much mercy, allow disorders to arise, from which follow murders and robberies; for these are wont to injure the whole people, whilst those executions which originate with a price offend the individual only._

* * *

_**December 1**__**st**__** 2003**_

The entrance gates slowly opened as the black limousine turned into the driveway. In the back seat, Raito sat despondently, his eyes impassively scanning the peaceful surroundings. Trees and shrubs were artfully maintained around the property, while guards in perfectly pressed suits stood by. The sprawling estate was the perfect embodiment of the yakuza's love for the _semblance_ of peace and sophistication.

It was quite different from the headquarters downtown where the pinnacle of technology and brutality took over.

However, no matter how much the traditional complex tried to camouflage it, its bloodied history would always linger in its shadows. Similarly, no matter how much he looked like a proper seventeen-year-old Japanese boy, chief Yagami's only son would always be a murderer.

But sacrifices were constantly needed in order to achieve one's goal. His latest kill was yet another proof of that.

Although his face did not show it, Raito felt somewhat numb. The hit had been easy and necessary – though many would question his use of that term. Not that those sheep's opinion mattered. The yakuza ruled its own world, now Raito's world. He had learned to survive there. He wasn't some snot-nosed idealistic brat.

Not anymore.

And the teenager would not allow himself to question Takamiya-sama's orders. He had no right to do so. Raito's smile turned bitter. He was his adoptive son after all; his enforcer, his adviser, his servant.

_His slave… his bed warmer…_

All in all, his old foolish ideals did not matter here and he would not allow himself to doubt – or more importantly, to show doubt in the oyabun's presence. Although he had called back earlier to announce the success of his kill, he would still need to give a formal account of it at dinner.

At that time, none of his insecurities must show. _Not even that –_

Immediately, he shook his head. No, he must not dwell on that… that _brat_.

He wasn't worth it.

As soon as Kohashi opened the door, he stepped out and headed towards his private quarters. There was no need to wait for his bodyguard. What harm could he encounter between the entrance and his room, within one of the Black Dragon's best guarded domain?

Raito bit back a snort. No, that question was ridiculous. He had almost died, had almost been killed by one of their own within the headquarters.

So of course he would need to be guarded twenty-four seven. He would always be – a prisoner.

"Young master," a harried underling hastily gasped out after rushing through a poorly executed bow. "I finally have the documents oyabun-sama wanted you to look over. If you have time before dinner –"

With a wave of his hand, Raito halted him mid-speech and took the pile of papers. As he rapidly flipped through them, he realised that they detailed the long-awaited contract with Viper group. For a while now, they had been trying to negotiate a new route to get the methamphetamine to Ross-san. The United-States, with all their new frontier policies, was becoming quite a bore.

"Good. Tell him I'll have it done by then."

"Quite the hard worker, aren't we?" Commented his annoying ever-present shadow as it peered over his shoulder.

"I do have responsibilities unlike a certain someone." Raito quietly hissed out in response, while pretending to be mumbling out what he was reading.

"Ah, but you would have saved yourself the trouble if you'd just use the Death Note."

Raito gritted his teeth in irritation. This was a matter Ryuk refused to understand. There would be no selfish killing from his part. He would never let himself abuse its powers. He would not hide from his position's gruesome responsibilities. Nor would he manipulate his victims' wills in order to ease his burden.

His conscience would not allow such weakness and especially _cowardice_ from his part.

"I will not and you already know why. Now quiet, before they start thinking me mad for talking to thin air."

His order, as per usual, was ignored.

"Hehe. But y'know, I just feel that it is such a shame for you to use the Death Note so sparingly." He cocked his head to one side, thinking for a second, before immediately resuming his insane grin. "Not that I have heard of any other owners using it as much as you… but think of all those deaths you've wasted!"

His grimace grew wider, if that was possible. "Not that I really disapprove of your killings. Quite the contrary. I haven't seen so much personal killings up close, stuck in the shinigami realm as I was, y'know. Must say that I'm impressed. You humans' way of handling death looks so much funner, with the blood and gore and all!"

Turning left, Raito rolled his eyes. Really, he was not surprised that the shinigami found the murders he had committed amusing. Humans were nothing but toys for him, ants to be crushed when they were no longer entertaining.

This sort of disdain was not unique to death gods. Anyone who had power over others' existence would eventually scorn them. Mass murderers looked down upon their victims; yakuza showed contempt towards the meek law-abiding Japanese citizens; children toyed with ants' lives – before ultimately squishing them when they ceased to amuse them.

It is all quite simple really: you do not value the lives of those inferior to you.

It was a sentiment Raito shared despite himself. He perpetually put up a show of arrogance for Takamiya-sama – but then, how much of it was it a show?

He sighed and turned the page.

"Y'know, maybe next time, you should extend the death a bit longer. Wouldn't want it to be too quick now, would ya? That'd make it even more different than using the Death Note!"

Raito narrowed his eyes.

_Bloody sadistic bastard…_

And like so many of the powerful elites, he was seriously in need of entertainment. And who was _Raito_ but to comply? He bit his lower lip.

Despite his abilities, he was still subordinate to many and must in turn submit to their wills. Shakespeare had once written that:

"_All the world's a stage,_

_And all the men and women merely players._

_They have their entrances and their exits;_

_And one man in his time plays many parts…"_

And he was right.

There was no better way to describe the upper crust of society's complex court.

To navigate through it, Raito simply had to master the art of putting on the right mask and fooling his audience, all the while mixing reality with lies. Like Ryuk, they all wanted a show; they were just more subtle about it.

"Hehe. So who are you thinking about killing with the Death Note next?"

And once again, Raito ignored the shinigami. Not only was it none of his business – although the brunet nowadays has often found himself inadvertently sharing his ideas with his invisible listener – but also because he didn't know yet. Usually, after extensive hacking and research, he had most of the deaths for the next few days planned, leaving only one quarter of the slots free for emergencies.

This way, he was certain of restricting his power in addition to limiting any possible mistakes and hasty judgement from his part.

Or so he hoped…

Finally, they arrived before his room that was situated at the end of the estate. Carefully unlocking the door – who, despite its lock, presented only a flimsy barrier as it was only a sliding door –, he entered his private quarters. He did not wait for Ryuk to actually step inside before closing it as the shinigami could easily make his way back in. Moreover, he could not change his habits – not even the length of time it took to perform such mundane acts.

Nevertheless, one habit did change. His first action within his sanctuary was to walk over to his windows and draw down the heavy curtains and block out all daylight. He had never liked to bathe his room in the sun's condemning rays, preferring to keep most of it in shadows. Now however, he could not abide the slightest bright beam.

Not to mention the much needed feeling of secrecy that derived from such isolation.

As soon as he had plunged the area in darkness, he placed the stack of documents in a corner of his desk. He will have to read them in more details later, but for now, he had already discovered a few loopholes – for both sides. However, he had other 'responsibilities' to take care of beforehand.

"So getting to work now Raito?"

Staring up into the shinigami's eyes, the yakuza left his moment of brief contemplation and shook his head in response to his companion's question. "No. I'm going to take a shower first. There're some apples on the table. Help yourself."

The instant Ryuk heard that, he lost all control and jumped onto the bowl, balancing himself precariously on top of it with his four paws on its rim. Raito shook his head at his antics before grabbing a change of clothes and heading into the bathroom attached to his quarters.

He immediately locked the door behind him.

He did not hesitate before shrugging off his filthy attire – not that it looked anything less than pristine. There were only a few – very easy to miss – specks of blood on the cuffs. His hands were bloodied however. They would always be.

Leaving the pile of garments on the ground, he instantly stepped into the shower. Raito did not dare glance at his reflection in the mirror. He already knew what he would see.

A pathetic creature.

Takamiya-sama described him as beautiful; he had seen how many had looked at him lustfully… but really, he was tainted. Oh, some would describe his skin as smooth and flawless – but only from afar.

They would not have noticed all the small scar marks, practically invisible against his pale skin. Nor would they see the larger ones – vestiges from that humiliating flogging – hidden by an even greater blemish on his 'immaculate' skin.

The tattoo that spanned the entirety of his back and then some hid them well enough. It consisted of two large wings. Both black in colour, but of different constitutions. The left one was reminiscent of that of a western dragon, or even a demon. Scaly and hooked, and carefully folded into itself – it looked somewhat fiendish. As for the right one, it was an angel's wing, a bird's wing – but broken, with feathers slowly falling off.

It seemed that although Takamiya-sama was Japanese, he had some fondness with Christianity – or at least some of the western world's myths and legends. After all, why else would the man constantly refer to Raito as his _fallen angel_?

The brunette snorted. An angel. As though he had ever been a higher being deserving of praise! Even as a child, he had been overambitious and arrogant. He had been no meek little goody-two-shoes angel!

But still, his view of his old self did not matter. It never did and there was no use in dwelling with the past.

And that brand on his back was something he would never be able to take away – in the same way he would never be able to erase his crimes.

Lately, fewer yakuza had irezumi engraved upon their skin. Full-bodied tattoos became far too distinctive and with the recent difficulties they have encountered with the law enforcement– as the NPA increased their investigations on the yakuza – many have decided to forego them.

Still, Raito was quite glad that although Takamiya-sama was determined to mark him, he had not decided on gifting him with a whole body suit. Having a pair of wings branded upon his back – especially a broken one – was bad enough.

The wings themselves were not simple. Hidden between their folds and in their shades were other designs. There was the clan's dragon coiling around them, like a chain holding them prisoner. In the right portion, within the feathers' many hues, you could distinguish the shape of a prowling white tiger if you look closely enough. Everywhere possible, other such motifs were secreted; the different tones concealing and enhancing them.

It was a true work of art. Although it was not finished – as Raito still had to return to the parlour every week for his back to be further branded – the effect was already stunning.

And quite damning.

Raito simply hated it. Despised all it symbolised. And still, everyday, he must be reminded of it as it was imprinted onto his very skin.

Without giving the subject anymore thought, the youth turned the water on, welcoming the hot liquid's pleasant burn. Under the cleansing shower, he relentlessly scrubbed his skin, rubbed it raw.

It wasn't because of the tattoo though – he had gotten used to that taint. It was the stain of his soul he wished to get rid of.

And still, no matter how much scrubbed, he could not purge himself of the stench of death or even his own filth. His hands may now be clean – free of the blood previously soiling it – and he may stop reeking of sex and semen after a harsh shower… but even then, he could still feel it on him. Like an invisible blanket weighing him down, forever reminding him of what he was: a murderer and a whore.

Raito rubbed himself more rigorously. Had his nails not been perfectly trimmed – only a bit sharper – the action would have drawn blood.

Blood…

It was all it came down to. Closing his eyes and resting his forehead on the shower wall's cool tiles, recent events invaded his sliver of conscience.

It was supposed to be an easy kill. The two men who had betrayed their superiors to Tamiya. The businessman had quickly enough revealed their names during their bargaining a little more than a week back. For their betrayal, their execution had been unavoidable.

It had been simple and straightforward. Raito had entered the house, found the two traitors in the kitchen and then, shot them. It had been clean and quick. It may not have been –

_No! I cannot think of _that_ now!_

– but what had happened wasn't supposed to have happened.

_A soft yawn. "Uncle, what was that noise?"_

The two were supposed to be alone.

"_Uncle?"_

No one had warned him about the child.

_Bang. "Ahhh!" Bling, blang. Crash!_

He closed his fist tighter as his entire face clenched in anger. His teeth were gritting against one another.

_A painful whimper. "Un-uncle?"_

He did not know why one of the men's nephew had been in the house. He had not expected it. No one had warned him. As he was leaving the dwelling, he had started relaxing, thinking his mission completed. And when he had heard the voice, it had startled him badly. Without thinking, without realising what he was doing, he had reacted on instinct. He had turned around and fired a shot.

It had missed the child – he was aiming for an adult's torso – but that made no difference.

Surprised by the incoming bullet, the boy had lost his balance and fell, tumbling down the stairs. Realising his mistake, Raito had rushed to his side, but it had been too late.

He had expired there. Dead at such a young age – probably no older than what Sayu had been at the time he had left her.

And in a way, it was all for the best because the boy would have died either way – they would not have allowed a witness to escape the scene of the execution.

But still… even now, he could see the child's tormented face in his mind, as he painfully drew his last breath.

Raito sighed.

It was yet another innocent to add to his list of undeserving victims… but he must _not_ contemplate that now. It was not the time – not with the meeting only a few hours away.

Digging his nails into the palm of his hand once last time, he took a deep breath. He had to let it go.

He exhaled.

And then, before he loses his composure once more, he turned off the shower, grabbed a towel and dried himself. Only after he finished dressing did he give himself a glance over in the mirror. Satisfied with his immaculate appearance, he left the bathroom – ready to face that damn Death God _(who had been laughing all along when witnessing that innocent child's death…)_.

He hated Ryuk for that but in his own twisted way, he understood – and did not say a word (even with the shinigami taunting him on how this extra death could have been avoided had he simply used to Death Note…).

"Raito!" Ryuk greeted him cheerfully. "You're back! Don't forget to get more apples when you get out. I finished them all."

Raito frowned. "You shouldn't eat them so quickly. It'll start getting suspicious if I constantly ask for more."

"Yeah but…" He paused to 'better think' as he turned his head at 180 degree, "if I don't get apples, I'll get all twisted up and you don't wanna see that!"

"Mmhm."

"Huh. Huh. So watcha doing?" The shinigami asked as he floated back to his favourite position behind his human's shoulder.

"I'm getting some research done." Was his simple answer. Sitting down at his desk, he proceeded to turn on his laptop and the television – even though he would be looking over the pile of documents Takamiya-sama's underling had left him.

It would be good to keep up with the current news and criminals in case anything special pops up.

The next two hours was pretty much spent in silence, with Raito doing occasional searches on the net or through books to verify some fact and Ryuk watching on, bored. At the half hour mark, he even had the name of the criminal to be executed at 6 PM GMT – a certain Jason Smith (a racist mass murderer still at large in Australia) – written down.

It was a quarter before three o'clock though that his quiet routine was disrupted by the news.

"We interrupt your programming to bring you an important message from the ICPO. This is being broadcasted all over the world. Japanese voice over is provided by translator Yoshio Anderson."

"My name is Lind L. Taylor," announced a grave voice, slightly out of sync with the speaker's lips, "widely known as 'L'."

Raito's eyes widened, startled away from the paperwork. _L, the greatest detective of the world_. The one crime syndicates around the world tried to avoid arousing.

He should have _known_ his actions would have drawn the elusive private investigator out. Pushing the files to a side, he concentrated on what Taylor had to say.

"To the perpetrator of these serial murders…"

"Hehe Raito. I think he's talking to you!" Ryuk unhelpfully added.

"… you have committed the most abominable act in history. I will personally catch the one behind it… 'Kira' at any cost."

The brunette immediately narrowed his eyes. _The most abominable act in history? What would _he _know about the most abominable act in history?_

_Maybe I shouldn't be killing criminals; maybe I have no right to do so… but for it to be the most _abominable_ act in history?_

"So whatcha gonna do? Hyuk hyuk."

Leaning back on his chair, Raito crossed his arm and answered his infuriating companion. "I was expecting the law to do something like this. I guess we'll just see how it plays out. He is supposed to be the 'greatest detective' after all…"

"Kira, I think I have a pretty good idea of what you're trying to do and why you're doing it. But what you're doing is… IS EVIL!!"

Raito frowned. "Me? Evil?" He hissed out. "What would you know about it?"

Evil. Good and Evil. Such a simple _naive_ concept. What right did _L_ have to question his motives? How can he ever aspire to understand Raito, his reasoning?

How can he judge his actions to be _evil_ when all he was doing was punishing those who deserve to die… where justice has failed?

How dare he believe that murderers deserve to live? When kids – _Un-uncle?_ – have died? What right did he have to judge Raito for his trial at redemption, when he wouldn't even punish him for his _true crimes_!?

"Damn you L. You know nothing." And perhaps he should show the fool how little he knew. Taken by a fit of madness, he hastily scribbled the detective's name onto a scrap of the Death Note he always kept upon his person.

"How can you even think of catching me if you can't even catch the simplest of criminals? How _dare_ you even question me?" He growled.

"Police all over have already begun to investigate."

"Maybe now, the law would learn how useless it truly is…" Raito added softly, turning back to the stack of documents he had set aside and letting his righteous anger deflate. He would have to check on the –

His pen stopped midair as the full impact of what he had just done finally hit him.

He had killed L when he had no reason to. He had killed an innocent, a man on the side of justice in his fit of anger – of madness.

His pen clattered on the desk.

He had used the Death Note to kill someone for such a petty… _petty_ reason. "SHIT!!" He shouted as he grabbed his head with both hands, leaning over the papers.

"Hyuk hyuk! What's wrong Raito? Regretting your kill?"

He had done what he had promised to never do… What the heck was _wrong_ with him? What happened to his control? Maybe he should just burn the Death Note before –

"Unbelievable…"

He bit back a gasp as he sharply turned towards the television. "I did this on the off-chance that you would kill 'me'."

The incessant beat of his heart could be heard in the quiet of his room – only disturbed by the mechanical voice.

"So, Kira, you can kill without even being nearby. So it's true after all. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would have never believed it. But this was the only way you could have killed them, wasn't it?

"Kira, listen to me, the person you killed was actually a prisoner sentenced to be executed at this time today… Not ME."

"Heh. Got you there!"

"BUT I, L, AM REAL!! So why don't you kill ME!?"

At those words, it was as though all his recently accumulated tension seeped out of him and Raito laughed. He laughed, bitterly, relieved beyond measure. He laughed because he had not completely broken his vow: had _not_ killed an innocent. He had not killed _L_.

"COME ON! DO IT!"

It was only a criminal – a criminal sentenced to death… He had –

_No_. He shook his head. Although his mistake wasn't as grave as he had suspected, it did not change the truth of the matter – or his intentions. He had acted on impulse, ready to kill _L_, and even if he had not managed… that still did not excuse his actions.

He –

He did not know what to think.

"COME ON! KILL ME!"

So it was better to avoid thinking about it for now. He would have all the time to beat himself over the matter tonight. He was unstable enough as it was – and with the impending dinner…

He had made enough mistakes already – balanced on the edge of a knife.

And as for L –

"WHAT'S WRONG? CAN'T DO IT?"

Of course he wouldn't act. Not anymore. He wouldn't repeat his mistake – even if he could. Not for a third time.

"Seems like you can't kill me after all."

The shinigami whispered in his ear. "L must be pretty relieved to know that, heh heh."

As though Ryuk knew anything. He would not seek the detective's death, not anymore.

"Shut up."

"So there are people you can't kill. Thanks for the hint. Let me tell you something in return."

Raito frowned.

"I said that this was a worldwide live broadcast but it's only being shown in the Kanto area of Japan."

"What?"

"I was planning on doing this at other prefectures, but now that's unnecessary… I know that you're in the Kanto area."

"Heh heh, this L guy isn't bad."

"The police might have missed this, but I was certain your first victim was a murderer at Shinjuku. Compared to all the other criminals who died of similar causes, this guy seems insignificant and only the Japanese media reported this incident. That was the only clue I needed…

"… to know you're in Japan, Kira! And that man was just a test for your killings, as he didn't follow your six hours mark pattern! I got lucky, casting my net out on the most populated area of Japan… Not only that, but you just confirmed to me that you do not need to follow strict rules on the times of your killings. Thanks!" L's distorted voice was triumphant and gloating.

"I really didn't expect my plan to go so well. Kira, it's not far from the day you die."

All of Raito's energy deserted him at those words. He slumped down onto the back of his chair. "So if you've managed to deduce that much so quickly," he whispered to himself, "you truly deserve your title."

"Kira, I'm extremely interested in your killing method. I'll figure it out… when I catch you!"

He closed his eyes in resignation. "L… come after me if you can. Send me to the executioner if you think yourself capable."

"Kira… I WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND DESTROY YOU!!"

"I –"

"Show me the true –"

"AM –"

"– meaning of –"

"JUSTICE!!"

"– justice."

_Show me that it has not failed._

_If you manage to catch me and try me for my crimes – all my crimes – I'll gladly own up to them all._

_Show me that not all has been corrupted._

_And then, send my damned soul to the executioner, where it belongs._

_I will not taunt you, I will not run. From these few clues, if you find me, I'll gladly surrender. It is my test, my challenge for you and the law of men. Show me that the judicial system isn't beyond hope._

_Come to me L!_

_For I await your promised judgement._

* * *

**A/N:** Okay. Here's the newest chapter! Sorry for the delay but I was totally caught up in university applications. At least it's of a decent length. Not only that, but the showdown between L and Raito has finally begun. grin A very different one than the one expected though…

Anyway, thank you so much for the reviews! It really encouraged me to keep this up – even with everything RL has piled up upon me. And thank you for answering my question about university lockers. I think I know what to do about that now.

Hope you enjoyed this chapter and as you all know, reviews are always welcome!!

And here's a link to the wonderful fanart drawn by Khaoshound:

khaoshound. deviantart. com/ art/ The - Prince - 79106279

Thank you! Thank you and thank you!

Next chapter – from what I have planned – might be a while in coming, with all the midterms coming up and everything I was thinking of introducing. So… see you next time then!

_Edited 06/05/08_


	5. Of Followers and Minions

Chapter 4

Of Followers and Minions

* * *

_**August 4**__**th**__** 2000**_

_Fuck!_

_Freaking piece of sh –_

Makoto groaned again as he stumbled over his feet and reached the wall for support. The few people around him looked at his limping form curiously but did not move to help. Selfish bastards…

But it was just as well… he did not want their pity or their assistance. He was a _yakuza_ for god's sake. Not some useless ninny.

Even as injured as he currently was, he was far from harmless. They knew that. They also knew that he was not one to messed with. Thus, although fully aware of his position in the criminal world – his bloodied shirt was a clear enough indication, in addition to the missing tip of his pinkie that could only be barely made out –, they wouldn't dare call the police. After all, they were in the Black Dragon's territory. It was the yakuza who kept the order around these parts; they were the ones who protected all the little 'businesses' from young hooligans and the law.

The police may sweep down on an occasional raid or two to keep up 'appearances' but they held no true control over these areas. This was especially true for the gambling houses as the yakuza would have warned the proprietors of the police's descent a few days in advance – giving them enough time to hide away their slot machines and other illegal activities. Their rule has long been rendered ineffective by the Japanese mafia's tight reign on the underworld.

He sighed, pausing for a bit. Makoto had been half-running half-staggering for quite a while and he needed to take a breather.

Even now, he could hardly believe that what had happened actually happened. It shouldn't have been possible. Their network around these parts was supposed to be infallible.

The police shouldn't have shown up at Sakura Wine tonight of all nights. None of their contacts had warned them about any planned raids. As for unplanned ones… no, it was too organised to be so.

Following the task force's unexpected appearance, the situation had quickly degenerated. A shootout, a fire breaking out and him – the highest-ranked member in the area – running for his life like some coward.

Everything Takamiya-sama had entrusted to him had now been lost, gone up in flame.

He had failed his master once again.

The hand that wasn't tiredly pressed against the wall clenched into a fist. He did not know how he would ever find the courage to face Takamiya-sama's quiet disappointment when he returned. He did not know.

As a foolishly brave girl – probably no older than sixteen… _what the heck was she doing in these parts?_ – carefully approached him, he gave her a harsh glare. She froze, hesitated for a second by taking another cautionary step forward before abruptly wising up and scampering away.

Good riddance.

Slowly, painfully scrapping up whatever dignity he had left, he straightened his back and took a few more steps. At least, they couldn't really see him due to the night's darkness. Couldn't make up his pain wracked features. He was almost there anyway.

Another few steps, another pause… and then another few steps and pauses.

Finally, he arrived in front of a dingy building whose faded sign proclaimed itself as a 'Pachinko Parlour'. Straightening up, he pushed the front door opened. The bell rang at his entrance but it couldn't really be heard through the cacophony. Makoto had no idea why the manager kept such a useless tacky apparel.

The inside of the parlour wasn't any better. The entire room was clearly marked by signs of wear and neglect. The floor was grimy; it probably hadn't been washed or mopped in years while the posters on the wall were fairly discoloured. At points, the paint was actually peeling off. As for the ceiling, it looked just as filthy as the floor – a little gift to the establishment from all their loyal smokers.

And throughout it all, the neon bright lights and annoying beeping sounds from the pachinko machines resounded throughout the room. In Makoto's case, the glare temporarily blinded him and he had to successively blink half a dozen times in order to recover from the assault. There was no way to tune out the horrible music however.

Stupid machines.

At least the patrons were far too occupied with wasting their money away and pushing stupid little balls into their slots to take notice of the 'newcomer' in all his bloodstained glory.

The manager was not so blind though.

"Kohashi-san, are you –?" the man asked in worry, his eyes widening at the glorious sight of his injured shoulder.

He shut him up without any delay. He was in no mood to enjoy the sycophant's fawning. "Get me to your office. I need to make a call."

The man immediately bowed. "Of course sir, right this way."

Through gritted teeth, he followed his host, trying to look as controlled and proud as he could under present circumstances. Damn the stupid situation. It was all Kyou's fault.

The manager led him towards a side door located behind a fake potted plant. It openened into a dimly lit corridor. At the end was the man's office. Withdrawing the key from his pocket, he immediately proceeded to unlock it.

It was a small room. On both sides of the desk were chairs – the one behind the table being more comfortable of course. Papers were strewn everywhere above its filthy coffee-stained surface, with a few empty and sometimes half-empty beer bottles here and there, serving as paperweights. Makoto sneered.

Of course, there was no need for organisation when you were the owner of a semi-legal gambling house.

… even though you were serving _Takamiya-sama_, who valued _order_ and _efficiency_ above all else. He'd be sure to report this man's uselessness to his master once he got back.

But first things first, he had to take care of his own situation.

"The phone is on the desk sir," the balding man added unhelpfully.

"I know. Now get yourself useful and find me the first aid kit."

With that, he proceeded to shut his host out of his own sanctuary and slumped down on the 'office chair'. It was really too bad he had to go through all this but he had lost his jacket in the fire and along with it, his cell phone. Public phones were out – who knew who would be listening in? – and although the lines in the various shops in these parts were slightly more secure, he still didn't want to risk it. The storeowners might be compliant but who knew how they would react, seeing one of Takamiya-sama's faithful lieutenant injured – weak and vulnerable?

It wouldn't do for those lowlifes to get ideas. Having him hobble down the streets was bad enough as it was.

Of course, Makoto could have spared himself all this trouble had he decided to hide in one of the organisation's many establishments near Sakura Wine. Yet, such a move would be far too dangerous. The police was swarming all over the area, ready to arrest and question any suspicious-looking fellow.

He sighed in irritation.

At the fourth ring, Kyou finally picked up his blasted phone.

"Yo. This is Hagino. I'm not in the mood to talk right now so you can just – "

Before the idiot could finish and hang up on him, Makoto immediately cut him off. "It's me you fool!" He hissed out.

A second. Two seconds.

"Oh. I didn't recognize your number so I though you were a telemarketer or something." Kyou finally answered, sounding somewhat sheepish.

Makoto knew he shouldn't have waited for an explanation. He could already picture the moron rubbing the back of his head, chuckling nervously at his blunder.

"Just get your ass over here as fast as you can." He growled out irritatingly as he recited the pachinko parlour's address. When done and certain that Kyou had noted down the information correctly, he instantly hung up, unwilling to wait for another idiotic response.

Damn that Kyou.

Sometimes, the man could be fairly amusing but Makoto was simply not in the mood for his antics – though his friend would argue he was _never_ in the mood for it. Makoto simply could not understand how his fellow yakuza could take his position so lightly. They were Takamiya-sama's men, his soldiers – not his _jesters_.

Yet, his master tolerated him and with time, Makoto had learnt to do the same – well more like endure than anything.

He had even come to consider Kyou as a sort of friend/acquaintance. He would not have relieved him of his duty otherwise. He simply wasn't generous that way.

Yet, he had helped him out. Somehow, the idiot had managed to get himself shot in the leg a few days ago. Reluctant to let Takamiya-sama's orders go unfulfilled – or at least to the best of the organisation's capabilities – he had gone in his friend's stead.

And totally screwed it up.

He still could not believe it had happened. It should have been simple. Only a simple exchange, no different than any others.

And still –

The knock on the door startled him out of reverie. He immediately straightened his posture. "I have the first aid kit sir," announced the manager's demure voice.

"Good. Come in."

As soon as the man placed the box on the table, Makoto shooed him out again. He did not need a stranger tending to his wounds.

The kit, although quite large, did not contain much. The yakuza was not surprised: he did not expect it to. After all, living in this part of town was quite dangerous and Takamiya-sama was always considerate enough to provide care for his people – wherever they were. And of course, the manager was cheap enough to never think about replacing the used supplies.

Makoto snorted in disgust as he held out a tube of cream that had expired years ago. Next to it was a bottle of antiseptic that was quite empty.

After going through all its content, he concluded that although it was seriously lacking in the required bandages and whatnot, he would still be able to make due. It would tide him over until he was back at the headquarters.

It wasn't as though he absolutely _required_ such pampering.

He was quite used to pain. A little discomfort would not bother him. Moreover, he wouldn't be using his shoulder much until then.

Still, Makoto could not help but wonder about his compatriot's fate. He had been meeting up with Usagi Hachirou, one of the many contacts they had between themselves and their few bases in Korea. Although the man was a bit too ambitious for his own good, he had been loyal, having worked for the Black Dragon for slightly less than two decades.

Like any others in his line of trade, he would help them smuggle supplies, weapons and even drugs into and away from the continent. This time, the shipment would have consisted of several of the latest firearms (there was growing unrest between their men and the locals). A CD containing a new set of instructions or something was also included in the package.

Makoto did not know what it contained: it wasn't any of his business.

The exchange was supposed to have been a simple affair, conducted in the comfort of one of the Black Dragon's less known host clubs. Yet, the police had shown up.

The yakuza didn't know why but he could guess. They had most probably gotten a tip about some other business dealing taking place tonight at Sakura Wine. After all, there had been a couple suspicious fellows getting drunk a few tables away. When the police had revealed itself, one of those idiots had impulsively brought out his gun and tried to shoot them down. He had missed but the officer's incensed comrades have retaliated. From there on out, the situation had simply degenerated.

Makoto closed his eyes, easily recollecting the chaotic scene he had witnessed, frantically trying to dig out some rational explanation to give Takamiya-sama later. Something had gone horribly wrong and his master needed to know the true cause.

The hostesses have of course panicked, running around like headless chickens. Meanwhile, the police had been trying to regain order but they have only made the situation worse by recklessly brandishing their guns around. A few of the patrons had their own weapons handy, shooting just about anyone, whenever they felt it to be necessary. Unfortunately, they were all a little too trigger-happy for their own good.

Makoto himself, deeming the situation out of control, had tried to quietly slink out of the room. He would have managed had he not turned around and seen his missing companion. Somehow, in the chaos, he had lost track of Usagi-san.

Backtracking, he had finally caught a glimpse of the man, trapped in between the youths from earlier and the policemen. He had been about to call out for him when a piercing pain was felt in his left shoulder. Entirely caught up by the affair, he had not been paying to his surroundings or any stray bullets.

It was such a simple, stupid, elementary mistake – one on which he would have spent hours berating his wet-behind-the-ears subordinates. And yet, Makoto had repeated it.

In those few seconds, he had been far too caught up by his own injuries to pay any heed to his environment. Once again, he had lost sight of the middleman. Still, he had not had time to worry about his missing companion because some idiot had somehow managed to accidentally set the entire building on fire.

The smoke could have easily been missed in the chaos… but not the panicked screams of 'FIRE!'. Quickly enough, the situation changed and enemies abandoned each other as they all scrambled to reach the door. In the rampage, he could not remember how many times he had been pushed around, onto the ground, slightly trampled upon. Tripping over each other, over the broken tables, chairs, furniture could not be avoided. Somehow, amidst of such chaos, he had made his way out.

By the time Makoto had left the premises, his lungs were raw and burning; his half burnt jacket had long been discarded.

He had lingered around in the shadows for a bit longer though – to better assess the situation. He had seen a few others escaping the Host Club after him but not Usagi-san. He had not been part of the crowd either and Makoto had not seen him leaving before him – which would have pretty much been impossible if you considered his earlier position. When the masses chaotically trickling out of the building had died down, he head left.

The police and firemen have arrived. It wouldn't do to stay.

Thus, their contact had burnt to death in Sakura Wine and with him, the ridiculously expensive guns and the CD.

Losing them may have been preferable than having them stolen but it was no consolation. It did not make the situation any better – or his failure any less so.

Makoto groaned, passing his uninjured hand through his short hair.

This was all Kyou's fault somehow. Had the son of a bitch not been stupid enough to get himself injured… he would not have been placed in such a situation.

He would not have failed Takamiya-sama.

When he finally faced his friend, he'd be sure to give him a well-deserving punch in the guts.

Another knock at the door but this time, it was accompanied by a cheery voice.

Just in time. The yakuza tiredly left his seat and walked towards the doorway.

"Makoto, I'm here. Don't know what your problem was but seeing as you couldn't survive without my magnificent pres –"

The intruder stopped mid-speech, shocked. It was in no way due to the glare currently directed his way – that he had grown immune to – but his friend's state.

"What the heck happened?"

Makoto exhaled. "The police happened. And then a shoot-out and a fire." Was his tired mumbled reply. No use saying more in such an unsecured location.

"Ouch," he mumbled out sympathetically, plopping down on the closest chair and then carefully placing his crutches on the ground.

"Tell me about it. And you owe me," Makoto added as an after-thought.

"Hmm."

"C'mon. I need you to –" Makoto stopped mid-speech when he finally saw who had accompanied his friend here – and had been previously hiding in his shadow.

The _Brat_.

"The heck is he doing here?" He roared out.

Kyou raised an eyebrow. "Well, since you took my place and Takamiya-sama always wants someone with Raito-kun here," he said, gesturing unnecessarily towards the teenager, "you had me look over him in your stead."

"I know that, but _why did you bring him HERE_?" He hissed out between gritted teeth.

"Well, it was either with me here or alone back at HQ. And you didn't exactly help me think out a third alternative when you hung up on me."

Makoto frowned for a bit but then, admitting defeat, he turned around and headed towards the door.

"Fine then. Let's go." Without giving either of the two another glance, he stormed out of the office, limping and staggering all the way, and into the car waiting for them. Kyou and the kid followed at a more sedate pace, one hobbling around in his crutches while the other approached with a quiet dignified grace that simply grated on Makoto's nerves.

As soon as they got in and got the car started, Kyou turned towards him, eyes serious. "Now that we're secure, can you finally tell me what's going on?"

He gave the brat in the backseat an incredulous look but knowing that his friend wouldn't care about his presence – not that he was a threat or anything but he did not want him to _hear_ about his babysitter's failures –, he started.

He may not want to share his mistakes with anyone, but Kyou, despite his casual attitude, was quite smart. Perhaps together, they would find a situation to the current dilemma. But even then, as he retold the past events, he knew it was useless to keep his hopes up. At least, by keeping a close eye on the brat – who was uncharacteristically silent – he could avoid adding another failure to his list. He would not let that rascal use his mistake as an opportunity to plan an escape.

He would not fail in that regards again.

* * *

_**August 5**__**th**__** 2000**_

Raito quickly covered his yawn with his free hand. While Kohashi and Hagino had spent all night trying to find a way to salvage the situation at Sakura Wine – he really didn't know how they hoped to do that (you do not solve anything by just talking and well, there was no solution to the fire…) –, the youth had pretty much been left to his own devices.

For once 'alone', he had spent all evening on the computer. His smile turned bitter at the thought.

It was ironic really. He could have been devising his own plans, maybe sketch up another fruitless escape that would never see the light of day – he had learned after his second attempt. But no, instead of spending it on himself, he had tried to help them out – to help his jailers out.

And no. It was not a question of loyalty – more of… necessity.

He bit his lips. Yes, necessity.

After all, his survival depended on the success of the organisation and if his assumptions were correct – which they were – chaos would soon take the streets. What happened to the innocents in Sakura Wine would no longer be an isolated incident.

And _that_ was not something he'd allow.

By threatening the Black Dragon, those aspirant usurpers were threatening the status quo, trying to tip over the scales. Although the yakuza in the past always tried to avoid implicating the katagi no shu – the civilians – in their affairs, this was no longer the case. No such consideration was given to those weaker than them anymore in their quest for power and profits.

But then, Raito was not like them. He worked under different beliefs.

He may have acted like the dutiful son these last two years but he still had his own goals.

He sighed.

His own goals… The time he had spent with the yakuza has opened his eyes to much and he now knew how utterly naïve he had been and how out-of-reach his ambitions actually were. But he _had _to persevere. Redeeming the yakuza, changing their entire structure was impossible but returning them to their old ways was still…

After all, they did have some somewhat honourable codes before – before succumbing to the violent upheaval of time. It would demand some major _sacrifices_ from his part but he would manage. He had a promise to keep after all.

In this way, he was not like his father. Either of them. He was neither a scheming yakuza nor a corrupt policeman. He bit his lips at that thought and paused in his typing.

Especially not like that _hypocrite_.

Even now, he could not believe the level of corruption in the Japanese police force. The crime syndicates and the law enforcement in the country have been so closely linked in the past few decades that they could have been considered accomplices. Many countries have commended Japan for its low crime rates and never had such undeserving praise been delivered. It wasn't as though the law enforcers ever had a say on any of the transgressions committed on the streets. After all, that territory was under the direct control of the yakuza.

To make matters worse, many police officers have been bribed. They would be given a share of the profits generated from illegal gambling houses and quite often, those perverts would enjoy free tickets to the various brothels managed by the Japanese mafia. Thus, whenever a raid was to be conducted, the yakuza would be warned and would in turn warn their various businesses.

Moreover, the huge arrests conducted once in a while were done just for show – to appease the masses. Since their proofs were generally inconclusive, the few detainees were released soon enough and returned to their nefarious businesses.

It was a sickening relationship. One Raito had never wished to take place in – especially not on the law's deceitful side.

Yet, the relationship had soured in the last few years. As the younger yakuza members have been getting too – idiotic – violent and unruly, the populace – no longer fooled by the police's show of integrity – started demanding concrete actions. Forced into this awkward position, the NPA had started making actual progress, as witnessed by the drug bust a little over two and a half years ago. And then, there was the Botaiho, the set of laws set on countering the yakuza's insidious expansion.

But Raito will not be caught up in that illusion anymore. Not after witnessing what his father – his _righteous_ father – had done. The fool had dared abandon his sense of justice in order to retrieve his son: he had not only put one life above the well-being of the populace but he, of all things, had to hire a _criminal_.

For someone he had once admired to sink so low… He knew that corruption was not gone – would never be gone.

He would not let himself be deceived, be blinded by the wonderful light of justice. He was not a fool.

And especially not a hypocrite. Not when lying to yourself can be so self-destructive.

The yakuza was doing a good enough job destroying Raito's ideals and morals on its own. But even in his compliance, there was still his little brand of defiance. He would not let them win. He might support them, be agreeable during the day but he, for one, would never let himself be blinded. He _knew_ and _acknowledged_ all his wrong-doings.

Not like his ex-father. Not like that hypocrite. Not like all those 'law enforcers'.

Looking back on it, he still could not believe how naïve he had been at eleven. To have once actually aspired to join his _father_ in the NPA! To serve out justice? He scoffed. More like to be corrupted!

With his familiarity with the police's perversion of the law, it was no wonder that this was what had first clued him into the inconsistencies of last night's event.

It was simply impossible that they haven't been warned about the upcoming raid. Had even one of their contacts been present, a notice would have been sent out – if only to be 'richly rewarded' for their service.

That at least thirty officers – such a large unlikely number – had been deployed to Sakura Wine made such an occurrence even more improbable. After all, there was no way such a huge party could have come up clean.

Raito did not believe in coincidences.

With such conditions in place, only one conclusion could be reached: it had been a setup. The entire team had been controlled by an outside force.

Although the squad could have been comprised of actual police officers, it was unlikely as the corruption did not run _that_ deep. No one could have ever attained an entire body's cooperation for a private affair.

No, the conspirators had probably disguised themselves as law enforcers in order to instil mass panic and through it, attain their goal.

Kohashi, having been a participant in the night's event, would not have been able to examine the situation objectively. He would not have seen through the illusion.

But Raito could. From his descriptions, the youth easily deduced the source of his bodyguard's unease. Both the police officers and the gang members had acted too suspiciously: they had been far too willing to initiate a shootout, without any regards to the innocent bystanders.

They needed to set up the cover-up.

From that point forward, it had been easy to work out the cause of such an intricate show: the intelligence and instructions that were to be sent out to their Korean branches, that little inconspicuous CD, hidden amongst all he weapons.

After all, those who only had a hazy idea of what it may contain would do anything to get their hands on it. Usagi had vague suspicions. For one as ambitious as he, those vague suspicions would have quickly warped into a conviction.

In addition, he was the only one there besides Kohashi who knew of the presence of the CD – that it was more than just guns being traded.

From there on out, all he needed to do was verify his hypothesis. Like any overconfident fool, Usagi would have tried out the CD as soon as his plan had been completed – without taking the time to actually verify what it contained. And that would be his downfall.

After all, there was much more than data held within that little disk.

As soon as it was placed within a computer, a program Raito had a great part in creating would automatically install itself _without notifying its user_. Utilising the Internet as a base, it linked all the Black Dragon's main databases together, creating a gigantic secure network where they may share information. To the ignorant, it would look like a simple data disk but it was so, so much more.

When a screen pops up asking for the correct password, most would think the code would give them access to the desired information. They would also be dead-set in their belief that they would have an indefinite number of tries to figure it out.

They were wrong. As soon as they typed in the incorrect sequence, the mainframe would instantly be alerted and would launch an entirely different facet of the program. Instead of giving them access to the network, it would notify the main terminal and act as a beacon – which would help Raito track down the fool's location.

Locating the hole in which the traitor had buried himself had been a matter of only a few minutes. What had consumed his night was a far more complicated matter. He had spent tedious hours digging out all the gritty little details of the conspiracy he had managed to uncover along the way.

Apparently, Usagi's hideout was set in a new group's – the Knives – base. That foolish organisation's members were probably the ones who had helped engineer the theft. They had thought usurping Takamiya-sama's power and stealing his connections would be a glitch.

Raito's smile turned vicious. Well, they were wrong.

Takamiya-sama's was no one's fool. He had always set up back-up plans in case any of his first ones went awry. He would never have entrusted such precious information to anyone – unless he knew it was completely secure.

Even so, Raito himself would not have let them go. He knew about these so-called Knives: brutes with far too much ambition to do themselves any good, idiots who did not know the meaning of honour.

A while back, the brunet had researched the major crime syndicates around the world and _all_ the ones that existed in Japan. The Knives, like any younger clan, was entirely made up of impetuous scumbags seeking only prestige and money.

They were young, arrogant, foolish and brash. The way they had gone about to acquire the coveted information was but another example of their recklessness.

Raito would never let such idiots gain power. At least there was still honour amongst the older generations, who viewed themselves as the 'protector of the weak' and the 'descendants of samurai'. Although the fourteen-year-old remained sceptical of their claims, he could at least acknowledge the honour they tried to maintain within themselves and in their ranks.

He would never approve of the Black Dragon's operations but he could at least see why they would never give up their ways. By controlling all the darker businesses in their territory, they would curb the amount of harm they would cause.

And that was something Raito easily understood.

It was a necessary evil.

It was that simple.

Thus, he hoped to one day gain enough power to reclaim the old ways. He could never 'reform' the yakuza. It was beyond redemption. But he could hope to tame it down, to limit the amount of 'necessary evil' that needed to be performed.

And although Takamiya-sama was ruthless, he was no warmonger. The man was cunning and saw how much of a resource Raito could be. While Raito would let his adoptive father use him, he hoped to extract some other advantages in return.

By gaining his trust, he would gain power – power to change things.

It wouldn't be easy, it would be long and arduous; he knew how much work he had ahead of him – how desperate his dream might seem. But he could not give up hope.

If ever he abandoned himself to the modern yakuza's debauched ways, he would have nothing left to live for.

Thus, getting rid of that pesky Knives group was a necessity. For the underground, for the Black Dragon, for Takamiya-sama and for himself.

Even for that annoying bodyguard of his.

Now, all he had to do was somewhat explain all he had discovered to that man and hope he wouldn't stubbornly stay obtuse or overreact. After all, the teenager still didn't have the power to command a full scale operation.

Well, not yet anyway.

Raito's smile turned grim at the thought.

* * *

Makoto sat on the edge of the roof gazing down at the city, one leg dangling out, twenty stories above the ground. Slowly, with two fingers, he took the cigarette out of his lips – a habit he only partook in when he was stressed – and breathed out the smoke.

Now that he was calmer, he could study the situation more rationally and admit how foolishly he had acted – been.

When the brat – no Raito – had exposed the entire Knives conspiracy, he had thought it was a joke, a tale Raito had made up. After all, with everyone leaving to eliminate the gang, the teenager would have full rein of the headquarters.

But now, as he re-examined his own memories of the night and all Raito had discovered, he knew the truth. That the child had actually been able to deduce so much and to dig out all the proofs in so little time was astounding.

And quite worrying.

That he had so much skill… He could now understand his master's fascination with the teenager. He sighed. But that genius, that intelligence could be turned against them – like how he had tried to escape from them a little over two years ago.

And yet… and yet…

He had never acted out again. And here he was, solving their dilemma for them, saving them – him – from the mess he had helped engineer. Makoto wasn't sure if he would be able to look at Raito in the eyes any more.

But that didn't matter. This wasn't a simple matter of wounded pride. There was so much more at stake here. He had to plan. He had to get organise.

And when he got back, he'd be sure to watch Raito more closely. Whether for the organisation's sake or even his own, it did not matter.

The situation required more thought. After one final drag, he pressed the butt of his cigarette on the railing and left.

He had work to do.

* * *

_But to enable a prince to form an opinion of his servant there is one test which never fails; when you see the servant thinking more of his own interests than of yours, and seeking inwardly his own profit in everything, such a man will never make a good servant, nor will you ever be able to trust him; because he who has the state of another in his hands ought never to think of himself, but always of his prince, and never pay any attention to matters in which the prince is not concerned._

* * *

_**December 7**__**th**__** 2003**_

_How come Kira couldn't kill me then?_

As L stared out at the city – so very similar to any other major metropolis from his hotel window –, none of its sights or buildings registered in his mind. Just as he had in the last few days, Kira consumed his every thought.

_Did he just not try because I'm not a criminal? No… in that situation, he definitely must have tried to kill me. So it must have been because he didn't know what I looked like._

Still, he would get his suspicions confirmed sometime today or tomorrow – depending on the efficiency of the NPA.

But then, it still wouldn't answer all his questions.

"L."

The detective turned around to his laptop lying on the wooden floor. "What is it Watari?" He asked, annoyed. He had always hated being startled away from his musings. It reduced his thought process by 64.

"The investigators are congregating. There seems to be some unrest." The screen then changed focus as it turned to record Chief Yagami's desk.

L crouched down in order to get a better look of what was happening.

Before the middle-aged detective stood three men. Although L could not make up their features – their backs were facing him – he easily deduced that they were somewhat nervous and repentant from their slightly slouched posture. As for the chief, he was shocked of course, half-standing up when he saw what the three men had presented to him.

Probably letters of resignation.

"These are our letters of resignation." They all solemnly breathed out together, echoing the detective's guess.

L quirked his mouth to a side. He had been expecting that. Far too many men were frightened by the mere suggestion of their own death. Faced with their own mortality, these three would rather cower away to safety. It was quite pathetic really and L really had no idea why they have actually been working for the Serial Murders Investigative Unit. If they were too scared to deal with the possibility of dying, they should have simply left the police eons ago.

It was just as well that they were resigning. They were of no use to him.

"Why? Because we value our lives." Answered the spokesperson. "According to L, Kira has psychic powers that can kill without laying a finger on his victim." He said, giving Watari – and thus L – a suspicious look.

"If I were Kira, I'd kill every man after me."

"After all," interjected another, "if we caught him, he'd be executed."

"L was talking and daring Kira to kill him on television, wasn't he? But L never revealed who he is in public and recently, we were asked to check how the victim appeared in the Japanese media. 'Find if photographs of their faces were released.' And they were!" He screamed, slamming both arms on his superior's desk. "Every single one of the victims' faces was released to the public! Meaning every single investigator here who has shown his police ID is a potential target. He could hit us at any time."

"So we request that we be switched to a new department sir."

As they started moving away, L managed to make up how relieved they suddenly looked, as though a huge weight has been lifted from their shoulders. "Thank you for your consideration."

"Hey, you guys –"

But L did not pay any more attention to the drama that was currently unfolding. He had finally – the Japanese police was _so_ slow – gotten an answer to the question that had been haunting him for the past several days.

Kira was not omnipotent. He did need his target's face in order to kill.

It was useful and a relief to L because no one besides Watari knew how he looked like, or his name. As for being an actual clue on Kira's killing method, it wasn't that helpful as it revealed nothing concrete. Neither the weapon nor the murderer, and that frustrated L.

Ever since that challenge he had issued a week ago, there has been no progress in his investigation. Usually, in his previous cases, this halt was due to the lack of murders. As he had already extracted all the clues from the previous crime scenes, he would simply be waiting for the killer to make the next move – his fatal one. Here however, not only were the killings continuing on schedule – at every six hours – but it seemed his taunt had not fazed Kira in the slightest.

From the way the murderer had reacted to him a while back, he had thought that Kira would be childish enough to take up his challenge. This self-proclaimed messiah had acted impetuously enough after all, killing Lind L. Taylor on national TV and deviating away from his proclaimed 'righteous mission' of disposing of criminals.

In the process, he had also deviated from his six hours killing mark. Although he had been certain that Kira was not constrained by time – as seen by how he had dealt with the Shinjuku murderer –, L had used this opportunity to get his suspicion confirmed. Thus, he had arranged for his 'proxy' to appear slightly before 6 AM GMT. Had there truly been a rule, Kira would have waited until that time to execute Taylor.

It had not been the case however.

L frowned in thought. After gaining so much from their initial confrontation, the aftermath now seemed somewhat stale.

Once he had uncovered Kira's scheme, he had been convinced that the killer would throw away his façade and proceed with a throughout 'cleansing of the world' – unhindered by his self-imposed rules. He had been certain that the death toll would rise – a risk he had been quite willing to take in the name of Justice – and that criminals worldwide would expire from heart attacks at any time of the day.

Yet, Kira had surprised him. He had not abandoned his unwritten directives even though his cover-up had been blown. For a killer with a god-complex, such conscious actions from his part showed an astonishing amount of discipline, which contrasted largely with that one impetuous action.

Which meant that that one hasty judgement had been a slip. A mistake that was unlikely to be reproduced.

This was of course quite vexing for L because he would be unable to fish out any more clues. Unless…

"L, the meeting is finally resuming."

"Good."

"Let's move onto the victims report."

"As you wish," said a young investigator, standing up. "Information on all the victims that died of heart failure could indeed have been discovered from Japan. In addition, as per L's request, there does not seem have been any variation in the type of victims. Three out of the four are established criminals while the fourth one would have appeared in the news recently. No pattern has been found regarding the time of this 'newer criminal's' death."

"Hmmm… Alright next. What about the general public?"

Yes… there has been no change. But still, it was strange admittedly that Kira would attack older criminals that were still free. It would have been so much more productive for him to simply get rid of the active ones – the current threat. It was as though –

L's eyes widened in realisation.

It was as though he wanted to make sure that those he killed deserved their fate. It was as though he wanted to avoid executing innocents.

Which would somewhat contradict his actions from a week ago…

No.

He cocked his head to a side, intensively staring at the marks on the wooden floor.

As he had previously concluded, that was probably a mistake on Kira's part. It deviated too much from his normal pattern.

L sat down more comfortably on the floor, with his legs curled up around him in thought. Alright, so Kira was more cautious than what he had initially believed. At least he wasn't only an idealistic fool.

He would give him that.

_Now, about those recent criminals... They were probably ones he felt he had no choice but to eliminate as soon as possible. But he only leaves one free slot a day so that he does not abuse whatever power he has._

L bit his thumb. Yes, that was probably it.

And the time delay would have allowed him to do the necessary research.

Cautious… far too cautious. L grinned, gnawing at his thumb some more.

Yes, this so-called God would be a true challenge.

Unlike most criminals, he did not try to taunt his pursuers. Neither did he try to run and flee from them while still committing atrocities. No, after that one mistake, Kira merrily kept to his agenda, as though having all the law enforcers in Japan, in addition to the best detective in the world, on his back could simply be shrugged off.

And it was this indifference that truly intrigued L. He couldn't help but wonder what could be behind it, what could have prompted him to dismiss the law so easily.

He would be sure to catch Kira and shove all his wrong-doings in his face. Force him to acknowledge Justice.

It wasn't as though a little research gave the fool a right to pass judgement.

No…

L blinked once, twice. No, he would send out a test.

Returning his focus back to the meeting, he saw that they were about to finish.

"– something like this would happen. Anything else?"

The investigators all looked at each other before shaking their heads in return.

"L, that's all we have to say."

"Thank you," he told them. "I think we're getting close." _Not as close as I would have liked but definitely closer…_ "Before we leave, I have one more request. Actually two." He amended after a moment of thought. "The first is for the Victims Unit, the Media Unit, and the Internet Unit, I'd like you to carefully examine how the Japanese media reported information on these victims. I need to know how much information can be found on them – on their crimes, their trial, anything."

He paused for a few seconds, thinking on how to best phrase the second part of his plan. He was quite certain the NPA would not approve – especially with their upright chief – but they had no authority over him.

The number one detective could have used his other connections to implement this plan of course. However, because it would affect Japan, he needed to work with the Japanese task force – not behind their back. After all, he did not need to cultivate any more animosity towards his alias.

L wet his lips, passing his plan through his mind once more.

He needed a victim on death row to be reported in the media as being on the loose and viciously murdering passer-bys. They needed to present the perfect bait for Kira – a criminal whom he'd usually execute after only one or two days of 'research'. There would of course be some information found on this new 'threat' on the Internet – all false of course.

If the prisoner does die of a heart attack, it wouldn't tell L much. Only that Kira was foolish and though disciplined, was not very throughout. It wasn't much of a weakness, but it could still be exploited.

However, if Kira didn't take the bait… he might then get a clue on how much information he had access to. After all, the illusion projected by the media would be quite throughout.

He needed to know Kira's position in society. He needed to know whether the task force was compromised – _maybe the reason he hasn't reacted was because he didn't need to, being able to access the investigation's progress. It would explain why he felt so secure about executing some criminals, and not others._

L needed to know how intelligent Kira was. He needed to see whether he would fall for his trap.

"In addition, I'd like you to –" he finally continued after his brief pause.

He needed to test out his opponent's worthiness.

* * *

_**December 10**__**th**__** 2003**_

Raito smiled tiredly as the waitress led him towards his table. It was situated in a corner of the hotel's restaurant, perfect for private discussions. As a bonus, it also offered a great view of the hotel's Japanese-styled garden, now shrouded in night's shadows.

The sun had set around an hour ago, but the sea of lights spanning through the city could be just as beautiful as any sunset – though much more wasteful. It made no difference to Raito. He had long lost his appreciation of aesthetics, preferring brunt efficiency above all. His host, on the other hand, still derived pleasure in the 'finer' aspects of life.

Privileged life of course.

Raito rolled his eyes.

"Ah Takamiya," the man stood up to greet him.

"Namikawa," he acknowledge in return with a slight nod of his head.

Quickly skimming over the pleasantries – an art they have both mastered but saw no need in wasting time over – they each took their seat. Neither one of them spared their menu a glance before ordering. There was no need. After all, it was always a variation of the previous meals they have enjoyed here.

Here, in this restaurant, in this hotel, they were in neutral territory. The two were allies at worst, uneasy friends at best. A businessman and a yakuza did not belong together. Although both groups have worked together in the past, extortion and illegal affairs have always been involved.

Not their type of cordial relationship.

It wouldn't do for their respective bosses to learn about their alliance. Even now, Raito did not know why his bodyguard, waiting in the hotel's bar, tolerated it. He did not know and he dared not ask. It was useless to pursue the matter further, when there was a risk of alienating the man's hardly won favour.

Noticing his silence, Namikawa broke the ice. "Takamiya, you seem a bit pale," his voice, as cool as a thawing river in spring, held a twinge of – worry? Raito frowned. "Has business really been that rough these past few weeks?"

He did not know what to make of this show of concern. Usually, their exchanges were filled with barbs and witty repartees, both finding pleasure in the verbal fencing. For the older man to deviate from the norm… no, it did not matter. He was here on business anyway. He gave a taut smile. "You could say that. We have finally reached the end of our negotiations with Tamiya-san. It concluded in our favour of course," he smirked, "but there were many loose ends to be taken care of. Sekimaru-Corp should be recovering from his blunder in no time."

"I see." Namikawa answered after a long contemplating pause. He now knew that the scandal Raito had warned him about in their previous meeting would not break out. The company would not suffer for one man's mistake – for angering the yakuza.

These little sharing of information were always kept on a superficial level. Although they were exchanging tips, both parties have agreed that it would be preferable to stay within the limits of the law. They may wish to prosper, but not through white collar crimes.

Their individual organisations/corporations have engaged themselves in those far too many times as it was. They did not need any further input.

"I know what you mean. Although Fujitsu seems to be doing well, they are having trouble honouring their part of the contract."

Raito's eyes narrowed. So it seems the 'huge project' they have been keeping under wrap has allowed them to neglect their other obligations. Yet, despite the additional resources, it probably still wasn't proceeding as planned…

"I guess that is what happens when your ego gets too big." He sneered, adding an arrogant tilt to his voice. "It happened with Tamiya-san and now," he hesitated a bit before proceeding with his warning, "it will happen again. It seems Aoi Corporation has recently angered my father. He is thinking of taking them in hand."

The older man stared at him, shocked. Raito looked away.

'Anger' would be a mild way to put it. Aoi Corporation had been supplying a lot of the raw technology they had been using these past two decades. For them to suddenly withdraw their support, the yakuza would not take such a slight lightly. They will retaliate.

A shift in the corporate world seemed inevitable now. After all, the Black Dragon was actually thinking of taking over the corporation – or at least replacing its management with their own people. It was a bold move.

A devastating one.

For the yakuza to take such a large step into the business world did not bode well.

Still, Namikawa would have all the time in the world to contemplate the situation when they separated. Raito did not have much time after all. Thus, he dived directly into the subject that most concerned him at the moment.

"How did the sale go?" He questioned as the bowls of soup arrived.

The man brushed back his long fringe of hair away from his face. "As planned. As soon as the various governments saw it, they instantly fell in love with it."

"It is a work of art after all," He commented smugly, before taking a sip.

"I know. But many are now questioning me about my genius programmer." Namikawa stared at the teenager straight into the eyes. "I have agreed to help you distribute it but I haven't anticipated the amount of trouble it would cause me. They want to meet you."

The problem Raito had generated was left unsaid but they both knew it, had anticipated it. After all, hidden identities always looked suspicious – especially when said person was the creator of a revolutionary program.

The teenager's eyes narrowed in thought.

Yet, there was no way they could ever reveal that Takamiya Raito – the adoptive son of a yakuza oyabun – was behind the software. After all, one of its versions – the best and newest one – had been designed for investigative agencies.

That Namikawa, knowing who he was, had agreed to help him sell it was extraordinary enough. They could not however expect such consideration from their customers.

"How about organising a videoconference? After all, they do accept L's help even though they do not know his identity. Nor have they ever seen his face."

The businessman's lips quirked up. "Of course. Anything for the number one programmer in the world… What should I call you then, PC?"

Raito rolled his eyes. "Right. Give me two letters instead of one." He glanced out at the window for a while, thinking. His index irregularly tapped the table cloth.

In his seat, Namikawa watched him amusedly between spoonfuls of soup.

"It would work though… Those fools have bought L's mystery, so why not do the same here? Even the reasoning behind such caution can be quite logical. I do not want to be poached by governments' secret agencies and I only wish to work on the type of programs that interests me. Just like _L_…" He thought for a bit more before turning to face Namikawa, a rare grin splitting his handsome face. "And then, just for the heck of it, we can add that I need to be alone or else, my… creative genius would drop by 64. Wouldn't they love the percentages?"

Behind him, the shinigami cackled with glee. "Wonder what L would think about your messing up his cool persona? Hyuk. Hyuk."

Meanwhile, the businessman chuckled at his words. "Very well. We'll try that. But don't think they'd all leave you off the hook so easily. Particularly Higuchi… He was foaming when he found out about my mystery programmer – especially since his department hasn't developed anything worthwhile these past few months."

He nodded in understanding as he took one last spoonful. "The envious are always that way."

Namikawa frowned for a bit before responding. "I heard things have been stirring up in the streets lately. It seems like the younger generation has been getting unruly."

"I'll take care of it."

And that was all he said on the subject.

There was no need to expose his worry, his weakness. There was no need to say how their newer recruits have unsettled their alliance with the Viper.

There was no need to say how dire the situation was – especially with the oyabun concentrating all his attention on Aoi Coporation. Takamiya-sama didn't know about the unrest yet and he must not know about it.

Raito would solve it himself without dragging his adoptive father into the mess. After all, he was certain Katsuo was behind the recent upheaval and no matter how much he despised the older man, he dared not get between father and son.

Not yet. Not when he was nothing but a useful bed warmer, a tool.

Takamiya-sama might value him but he had not gained the entire organisation's respect yet. Most of the older members were slowly accepting him into their mist but the younger ones…

They were all under his adoptive brother's influence – thinking the idiot would actually become the next oyabun.

And the rumours...

No. Despite his lack of influence on the newer recruits, despite his precarious position and little authority within the organisation, he would find a solution to this. He could not afford anything less.

"Very well. But perhaps you should adopt a hobby. I have always found myself relaxing while playing shougi."

Raito raised his eyebrow. "Don't think you can tempt me into a game so easily. I gave up on any form of chess for a few years already. It doesn't… engage me enough." He finished smirking.

"Come now. Are you afraid of being defeated?"

Raito scoffed. "Oh? So who beat whom a year and a half ago?"

"Ah, but I underestimated you." Namikawa answered as he arrogantly cocked his head to a side.

His lips twitched. "That's just an excuse and you know it."

That match, their only one, was behind Namikawa's acknowledgement of the youth. Although they have first met during one of the yearly shareholder's meetings, it was only during that one game that the two have connected… and become uneasy allies, business partners.

"And anyway, I prefer go." He added.

This change of preference in board games somewhat showed his change in attitude. Before, Raito had revelled in chest and shougi, excelling in the deviousness it demanded of him. He was aggressive, he was cunning and he ruled the board.

However, throughout his years with the yakuza, his attitude had changed. Chess may have been a somewhat realistic strategy games in Europe in the Middle Ages, but it was no longer the case today. They were no longer ruled by a king and wars were not waged on two fronts.

Instead, there were so many variables to take into account that the one enemy, one mind, you face during chess could no longer satisfy Raito. It was too simple. Instead, he preferred go where the possibilities, the paths were constantly shifting.

It was a more peaceful game as well… a fact he appreciated.

Raito sighed. "And anyway, I will not have much time to indulge you. I will be enrolling into Tokyo University this spring."

Namikawa simply stared at him incredulously. After all, why would a genius, a yakuza member, need to go to college? Unless –

"Connections."

Raito nodded.

"I'll be doing a double major in law and business." A degree that wasn't commonly offered in Japan but then… who was the school to deny the adoptive son of a yakuza leader?

* * *

Raito leaned against the wall as he waited for Kohashi to arrive. The supper had extended far longer than he had initially planned because of all the turmoil around the world lately – the cause of their lengthy discussion. His bodyguard was consequently no longer waiting for him in the bar. He had a little commission to complete and would be returning in a bit.

The youth sighed. He should have checked the time.

Still, he did not regret it. He never regretted meeting up with Namikawa. Although they both refrained from touching their personal lives, their conversations were no less stimulating. He would even say they were enhanced because of their lack of emotional ties.

The businessman was one of the few adults Raito respected. He was smart and although not a genius, he was very skilled in his own field. The two matched up quite well in their discussions about politics, business and economics.

Tonight's conversation had touched the state of the world and what Kira's presence brought to it. Although he disagreed with Namikawa on several points, he did bring up an interesting perspective.

Perhaps he should check up on others' opinions later. After all, he wasn't creating this world for himself but for them.

This meant that he could not close himself off. Because really, how much did his own opinion weigh in a world of a few billions? Especially when you consider the hypocrisy of his position in details…

But not now… As he looked at the lobby, he could not help but dismiss all of its occupants. Harried businessmen, arrogantly dressed trophy wives and snobbish tourists. As for the employees, they all looked too busied and absorbed by their job to actually formulate much of an opinion beyond these four walls. Although part of this world, Raito was quite certain none of these men or women had any useful advice or opinion to give.

Perhaps some sites or forums then…

"Hehe Raito. You seem to be looking at that crowd quite intensely. Thinking of killing any of them?" Ryuk 'whispered' into his ears.

Still, whenever he carried out his flawed judgement, he would have to be careful. The seventeen-year-old could not allow himself to deviate from his path once again – despite the _Temptation_. Sometimes, when he watched the news, he could not help but bemoan the state of the world.

The useless conniving leaders. The wars, the famine, the pointless injustice and all the acts of protest – of terrorism.

Sometimes, it would seem so easy to simply eliminate all the higher-ups behind these problems. But it would solve nothing.

Namikawa had wondered why Kira was only interested in common criminals when there were so many bigger issues out there. The answer was simple… the repercussions deriving from killing world leaders – even corrupt, useless ones – would be too great of a responsibility for one such as Kira.

Raito had _no_ right to reorganise the world on such a large scale. He could try to deter premeditated murders, but he could not resolve political issues. Simply eliminating the king would not win the game.

It was that simple.

'Ding!'

A group of young women got out of the elevators. As they slowly walked out, a few gave him speculative glances, flashing him shy smiles. Their coy looks did not affect him however. He did not care about their make-up, their dresses or even how attractive they appeared. He was simply not interested in the opposite sex – or even the same sex. Many would describe his attitude as being asexual.

Raito would simply attribute it to his disgust with sexual intercourse as a whole.

Without giving the flock of women a second glance, he looked away – back at the entrance once more.

Unaffected by his cold persona, they giggled amongst themselves and headed off – probably to a nearby bar.

He sneered. Such a useless way to waste your night away…

A limousine stopped in front of the hotel – not his own unfortunately. The tall driver, entirely hidden by his trench coat and hat, walked out and went to open the backdoor. The young man who emerged from the vehicle was the complete opposite of all of Raito's expectations.

For one, he neither looked rich nor well-kept. He didn't even look as though he could afford a room in this hotel. Pale, with unruly black hair flying wildly around his head, he somewhat reminded Raito of a drug addict. From what he could make out through the shadows cast by his untidy locks, there seemed to be huge bags under his eyes. Probably from lack of sleep…

The youth frowned in disapproval. Some say that the 'clothing makes the man'. Although Raito was not so vain, he did know the kind of impression good posture and freshly pressed clothes could leave.

The stranger seemed to ignore all of these unspoken rules however. He was slouching and the brunette was certain that if he continued this way, he would end up with a hunch on his back. The man's clothing was no better: a loose white shirt and a pair of jeans. No shoes nor socks. Raito rolled his eyes. He had no idea why the hotel staff didn't just shoo him away but it didn't matter.

It was none of his business.

From across the room, the eccentric man suddenly caught his eyes. Raito blinked, unable to look away. There was something intensely powerful in that gaze. Something intelligent and alive – despite how dead and apathetic those coal black eyes looked at first glance.

Raito frowned.

But before he could pay the stranger any more thought, he saw his limousine turn into the hotel's driveway. He shook his head and walked away, leaving the new arrival to his devices.

Yet, as he entered the car, he remained unable to brush off the set of eyes burning into his back.

* * *

L bit into his thumb as he entered his new room.

Something in his senses had tingled when he saw that youth staring at him in the lobby. It was strange. Usually, despite his stranger appearance, he would be dismissed right away. As long as he didn't act out, no one paid him any heed. The detective had a tendency to fade into the background.

This characteristic of his had allowed him to make brief appearances in public.

And yet, here… He shook his head.

No, it didn't matter.

He had the Kira case to monopolise his thoughts after all. L plopped onto the ground, pouting. And there lay the source of his recent bout of annoyance. Kira.

The man had not made a move.

He had not taken the bait.

So either he had more resources and cunning than L had at first thought or they had a leak… He gnawed at his thumb more thoroughly, suddenly craving for some more sugar. Maybe he should have the FBI investigate the NPA just to be sure. It'd be a bit drastic but he wasn't one to take risks.

Unless…

No, either way, Kira must have somehow gotten access to the police's files. How else could he have guessed that it was a set-up? The story reported in the media and the fake information implanted in the Internet had been quite throughout.

But then...

He would wait a few days before deciding. Maybe Kira was taking a bit more time in his research. But for now, he wanted a full background check done on all the investigators. Tailing them could wait.

"L, the rooms are clean of bugs and the equipment has been set up," Watari told him.

He nodded in assent.

Good. He would just go through the net once more and check the clues he and the NPA have set once last time.

Maybe he would find something now. After all, Kira's adoring fans would wonder about his lack of action…

* * *

As soon as Raito got back home, without bothering to turn on the lights, he headed towards his computer terminal and checked his mail. Seeing as he didn't have any work that needed to be urgently completed for tomorrow, he decided to indulge himself for once.

To take a semi-break from his duties.

He _had_ promised himself to search out others' opinions. He may as well do so now, when he had time and before he forgot.

"Neh, neh, Raito!" The shinigami whined as he nudged him on the shoulder. "I stayed good the entire evening right? Didn't bother you in your meeting too much eh? So can I finally have the apples?" He asked wide-eyed.

Sighing, Raito retrieved the bag of fruits he had bought on his way back – Kohashi had looked at him strangely for needing a detour for such a plebeian purchase – and tossed one at Ryuk, leaving the rest on his bed.

Like a dog, the death god caught the red fruit with his teeth and bit deeply into its white flesh. While eating, he made strange slurping noises.

Meanwhile, Raito had turned back towards his laptop.

"So, whatcha doing?" His companion finally managed to mumble out between two bites.

Smiling tiredly, the yakuza decided to indulge his companion. He was too drained to argue anyway. "Ryuk, look at this," he said, leaning away from the screen so that the death god may get a better look, "this is but one of the websites popping out and claiming 'Kira' as their saviour."

"Well, we all know how much of a _saviour_ you are, eh Raito?"

The teenager smirked. "And sadly enough, these naïve fools have no idea. There is one thing you need to know about humans Ryuk. At heart, most of us are cowards. We are too afraid to act, to speak out for ourselves, to step out of line. And so, we stay as sheep needing to be herded around, needing a saviour.

"And even then, we do not think, do not question our supposed saviour's intentions. All they see is that 'bad people' are being assassinated by someone. They do not question my actions, they do not wonder about its hypocrisy. Even the police force is that way." He added after a moment of thought, crossing his arms. "Because I'm killing, they see it as wrong – regardless of the motives. For both groups, everything is in black and white. It is all about the will or the action. Never both."

"Well… whatda ya think you're gonna do about it?"

"I'm not sure." Raito finally answered after a moment of thought. "However, I find the first group's blind faith to be the worse." He quickly leaned back over his laptop and changed the screen. After a few clicks, he arrived on the forum. "Listen to this: 'Thank you so much Kira for getting rid of all the bad guys! I'll be rooting for you in your battle with L!!' And then it goes on extolling my virtuous exploits."

"Don't appreciate your fans Raito?"

He shook his head. "It isn't that. It's just the way they go on about killing, as though taking another's life is my prerogative. They simply don't understand…" He sighed. "Oh. This one is a killer. 'Kira, you're my hero. When I grow up –" Scoff. " – I wanna be just like you. But I think you should kill more people if you can. Here attached is a list of all the bad guys I compiled. Hope it helps!' I think there're well over a thousand names and faces here." He finished, frowning.

"Well, why don't ya listen to his advice?" A huge grin split the shinigami's face. "I'm sure it'd make your job much easier, eh?"

Raito scowled. "Stop saying nonsense. You know perfectly well why I won't. And really, how many of those do you think are real criminals, or even ones deserving death?" He changed the screen again. "Ah… and here are more pleas. They apparently noticed the way I ignored that Heishi Saburou. As though I would take L's bait."

"Huh?" The death god cocked his head to one side. "L wants you to kill?"

"He probably wants to test me out. Why else would he present me a fake criminal? But it does not matter… Whether I am falling into his theory or not, it does not matter. I am not about to execute someone because others tell me to – no matter how much they praise me." He finished derisively.

And as he scrolled down some more, he could not help but feel nauseous. Had this situation been normal, he would have basked in his follower's praises – but not these, never these. They were the ravings of sick sycophants, of mindless minions he did not want.

**KIRA-FOLLOWER36**: _I'll do anything for you Kira. Here are my coordinates if ever you need my help!_

**I-LUV-KIRA101**: _Kira, marry me! I don't care if you're a man or woman but I belong to you, body heart and soul!_

**HITOMI2003**: _Kira, my boss is a lying cheat. Her name is Machida. Please kill her. I'd be eternally grateful…_

**RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE**: _God, when you descended on Earth, I knew I was on the right path. There is no nobler goal than to judge evil and eliminate sinners. By becoming a prosecutor, I seek to help you out in your divine punishment. I…_

"They are nothing but a bunch of naïve idealistic fools. And that one," he hissed out, pointing at the last entry, "to actually believe that I'm God!" He scoffed. "I wonder what he'd think if he ever knew how much of a sinner I am. That idiot."

By his side, the shinigami laughed at his predicament. "Well, why don't you teach them a lesson as their God, eh? Think they'd listen to you?"

Raito froze for a second and went over Ryuk's words. Slowly, a sly grin spread over his handsome face.

"You know Ryuk, you do have a point. Maybe I should add my own comments. Not as Kira of course, but as the only voice of reason within this insanity."

Quickly, he went to register himself into the forum.

In the box marked for 'Username', he hesitated. It would serve those fools right if he actually proclaimed himself as 'Kira' but then, that would be a useless provocation – not to mention that the name would probably already have been appropriated by one of his pretentious minions. No, he needed something fitting, that could easily be dissociated from his role as Kira, but that was still somewhat linked to his goal.

After a brief moment of contemplation, he typed in 'KIRIN'.

Kirin – the sacred beast that punishes the wicked and advocates for peace.

* * *

**A/N**: Long, long chapter. Not the longest – but considering I wrote it entirely during the Easter break, it is _quite_ long.

Ah… a lot of thinking going on here but hey, at least L and Raito have 'met'! Lol. Bet you guys expected something with a bit more flair but that'd have to wait.

And ergh. It's a sad sad day when Fanfiction starts costing you a pretty penny. Seeing that there isn't enough documentation about the yakuza on the net (just the basics) and that the one book I found in the library is in French (I have no problem with that but it's just annoying having to constantly translate the terms in my head), I decided to get my own copy. Gah.

Not only that, but in order to get a feel of their organisation and stuff, I'm actually thinking of buying 'Yakuza Papers', a series quite like 'The Godfather' but for the yakuza. Only problem... it'd probably be too outdated for my fanfic. So that's still to be seen... sigh This obsession of mine is really getting to me.

Anyway, thank you all for your wonderful encouragements and this chapter here was for you! Hope you enjoyed it – and I'm quite certain you guys now have a better idea where this is going.

Well, I'm looking forward to hear about your own brand of speculation.

_Edited 26/07/08_


	6. Of Letters and Messages

Chapter 5

Of Letters and Messages

* * *

_**July 28**__**th**__** 2003**_

His hands shook when he saw the unobtrusive white envelope lying on his orderly desk. Aside from that one little intruder, all was perfectly in place. Behind it, his monitor watched on in silent vigil – the screen as black as charcoal – while the keyboard lay only a few centimetres in front, perfectly aligned with his desk. Slightly to its left were his binders and books, all packed closely together and held up by a sturdy black bookend. The stackable trays containing the files he had already examined and sorted out held them upright from the opposite end.

Guarding the last two corners of his workspace were his phone and his small pile of paperwork. Nothing was out of place – not even his writing utensils that were all leaning upon a black cup's circular rim – and yet, it lay there, in the center of his desk pad: that long-awaited innocuous white envelope.

Almost reverently, he picked it up and carefully, oh-so-carefully, used the letter opener to free its content. His hands were gentle – despite the subtle tremors travelling through them – when he extracted the missive.

He had been waiting for it for so long… He knew he shouldn't have – should have been more concerned by how it had gotten here, by the implication of its origin – but he didn't care. He had be been waiting for it for… _so_ long.

He had been worried beyond belief.

Tenderly unfolding the priceless piece of paper, his eyes hungrily devoured its content – so much longer than the previous ones – with newfound hope.

'_27__th__ of July 2003_

'_Chief Yagami,_

'_You must excuse my lack of correspondence; life has kept me busy these past few months and recent events have not improved the situation. As you may have noticed, yet another serial killer has decided to grace Tokyo with his presence. While the MPD and the NPA may deem our employees beneath their notice or protection, I am sure you would disagree._

'_After all, were you not the one who taught me about the value of lives and _justice_'s impartial ruling?_

'_Our dead hostesses would dearly love to be served your brand of 'justice'. If not, I am afraid my people will have to take matters into their own hands._

'_If ever your department – or you – decides to change its stance on the matter, please call the enclosed number. My contact will explain the situation to you in depth (as you obviously lack the details relating to the case)._

'_Takamiya Raito_

'_PS: Congratulations on your recent promotion by the way May _you_ serve it well.'_

As he reached the last line of the letter, Soichiro slumped down on his seat in defeat. His eyes clouded with old anguish. _No… no…_

Silent sobs shook his shoulder as he reread the page. _No…_

It was official now: his beloved son was lost to him. Completely, utterly lost.

The chief placed the letter back on his desk before he crumpled it in his fit.

Soichiro had not been certain of it – had even harboured some hope – until now. Though the letters have steadily been growing colder – one by one pushing him away through their curtness – they had all still acknowledged him somehow. He had continued to exist in his son's eyes – or memories – up to this point. But in this one page, the tie had been severed: he was nothing but a police officer.

The director of the Serial Murders Investigative Bureau.

In one fell swoop, this stranger had cut all remaining connections between them. He would not be surprised if this missive was truly the last one.

After all, why ever would he want to contact Soichiro again – unless to call upon his position in the NPA?

Soichiro buried his head in his hand as he slumped over his desk. He was crying, but no tears came out.

He had been waiting for this letter for so long… almost a year now, and to be given this… a demand laced with a threat.

Once again rightly condemning him for his serious neglect/mistakes.

In his heart, Soichiro no longer knew what was worse: the first letter's shocking reprimand or the latest missive's complete rejection of him. The criticism stung, the absence of forgiveness reopened old wounds but it was the absolute lack of acknowledgement that destroyed the chief.

He was nothing in his son's eyes: only another hypocrite, another police officer unable to fulfill his duties.

He was not the role model the young boy had aspired to become in his youth. He was a failure in all that had truly mattered – in his family, in his job, in his honour.

By pointing out his mistakes, Raito only drove the point further in. Although they had noticed the rapes and murders of several hostesses in Shinjuku, the terrorist bombings in Nagano had entirely consumed his department's attention and energy. They had focused all their resources on the overly active pyromaniac and didn't have any officers to spare – only the newbie.

Such gross neglect was almost criminal. He should have actually checked out the situation before dismissing it as yet another 'yakuza matter/dispute'. He should have remembered his duties.

It seemed as though he must constantly be reminded of that weakness of his. After all, it wasn't the first time it happened.

Or the first time Raito reprimanded him for it.

Whereas five years ago, he had placed his son's life above that of others – to the point of forgetting his responsibilities as a law enforcer – here, he had forgotten about all his other cases.

With such stains in his record, did he truly deserve to stay in the NPA? When he was such a _failure_? When even his son had _renounced _him?

But then, that young voice – Raito's voice – would scold him… urging him to stand up and correct his mistakes. To continue walking forward, not run away like a coward.

To redeem himself.

Slowly, with trembling hands, he picked up his briefcase and took out the small stack of letters – letters from Raito. Despite his care, they all looked the worst for wear because of his constant handling of them.

Gently, he separated the first one – the most abused one – from the rest. Sorrowful eyes reread its accusing contents.

'_Father,_

'_Even now, I do not know what to think, what to say about the matter… but how _could_ you? How could you actually hire a criminal to kidnap me? _

'_And yes… if you haven't noticed already, your hare-brained scheme failed. I am still with Takamiya-sama and don't you ever dare try something so stupid again! _

'_And no, before you get any ideas, I was not hurt by your foolish decision. They didn't punish me if that's what you're afraid of._

'_But I am… hurt. Hurt that you would dare throw away your morals, your duties for something so stupid. I thought you police officers were supposed to be righteous. Father, were you not the one who taught me the meaning of justice? Did you not say that the most important thing was to uphold the law? Since when have your selfish desires become more important than your morals, your responsibilities?_

'_Since when were you no better than any of _them_? Of those criminals you arrested or even the yakuza who kidnapped me?_

'_Or perhaps in reality, others' lives have no meaning when faced with our own. Perhaps what you taught me during all these years were nothing but lies._

'_I certainly gave up the notion quickly enough. And you… you –_

'_I hate you now. I hate you so much for putting me in this position. For destroying everything I knew about you… for forcing me to – _

'_No. This isn't about me, it's about you._

'_I… I don't even know what I'm writing. I am far too… too angry and confused to think properly. But my thoughts are clear on these few matters._

'_I can understand you acceding to Takamiya-sama's request. I may not like it… I may not like you just shrugging off your obligations in a crisis, but I can understand. It isn't easy to think rationally at such times._

'_But then, for you to consciously hire a criminal – a criminal! Really, what have you promised him? A pardon?_

'_I can't believe you would bend the law this way, that you would actually sink to their level!_

'_Father… who are you really? Are your words only for show? Is honour but a myth from the past?_

'_As I re-examine the situation, I must wonder. I know you wanted to resign because of the kidnapping – because you almost betrayed your team and traded all your hard work for me – and I know you were persuaded to accept a demotion and a transfer instead._

'_When confronted with your failures, all you wanted to do was run away and hide from your mistakes like a coward._

'_I had thought better of you. I would have expected you to stand up and face them. To try and correct them, to avoid repeating them._

'_I guess I was wrong. I was wrong about too many things._

'_About you, about my ideals, about the law. If policemen are all this dishonourable… I am glad I will not become one._

'_And I hope I will never turn out like you. Like a hypocrite…_

'_Not that my position is any better. But it could have been worse. Takamiya-sama is providing me with the best education possible. There is no need to worry about my well-being._

'_No, you better… _

'…

'_Raito'_

At first, he could not believe Raito had written it. He had thought it was a ploy, concocted by that damn Takamiya to keep him away from his son.

But slowly, as Soichiro calmed down, he realised the truth. Those queries, those barbs questioning his teachings, his ideals, his duties, were all his son's. That letter bore his child's confused voice; it was asking him why his father had thus betrayed him. In that one reckless action, the investigator had done more damage to their relationship and to Raito than the yakuza had ever managed: he had destroyed his son's innocent view of life.

He had forced him to grow up.

And the fact was further confirmed when he had finally found the courage to watch the tape that arrived with the letter – when he watched his son murder his envoy. His relief at seeing his boy well and whole quickly morphed into horror at his son's actions. Somehow the darkness hinted at in various parts in the missive had been realised in those few minutes. His poor Raito had found no other option but to kill in cold blood – probably threatened to do so by Takamiya.

And that was his greatest regret. Not only had he broken his son's trust but his rash decision had engineered the situation – one the oyabun had willingly exploited. The yakuza probably wanted to destroy all of Raito's morals, to turn him into one of _them_ and this was but the first step. His father betraying his teachings only fostered the young teenager's doubts.

Yet, despite his revulsion for the video's content, he kept it – if only to get one last glimpse of his beloved Raito… The boy might have killed, his expression might have remained cold, indifferent, callous as the man slowly turned into a corpse at his feet… but deep down, he knew it must be an act.

It had to be.

Yet, despite his conviction, seeing this _stranger_ kill while wearing his firstborn's skin hurt. It hurt and he continued to watch all the same. It was masochism but he didn't care.

Somewhere deep down, it was still his son and those last few remaining traces of his boy were his burden, his treasure to bear (he would never dare show these vestiges of their child to Sachiko: her heart would not withstand the reminder of her loss).

Similarly, despite how cold and scarce those letters grew every year, despite the pain they drove into his heart with their every word, he could not part himself from them.

They were Raito.

The Raito he had missed growing up. The Raito he would never get back.

'_11__th__ of June 2000,_

'_Father,_

'_My studies have been progressing nicely. With the tutors father – I mean Takamiya-sama – has been providing me, I have never learnt more or faster._

'_But you already know that. After all, it is all I mention in my letters._

'_Work hard._

'_Takamiya Raito'_

Slowly losing him to this _Takamiya_ Raito…

'_2__nd__ of January 2001,_

'_Yagami-san,_

'_Happy New Years._

'_I wish you the best of luck on your cases._

'_Takamiya Raito'_

… to this stranger who _cannot_ be his son and yet was.

* * *

_Nor do I hold with those who regard it as a presumption if a man of low and humble condition dare to discuss and settle the concerns of princes; because, just as those who draw landscapes place themselves below in the plain to contemplate the nature of the mountains and of lofty places, and in order to contemplate the plains place themselves upon high mountains, even so to understand the nature of the people it needs to be a prince, and to understand that of princes it needs to be of the people._

* * *

_**December 10**__**th**__** 2003**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - KIRA'S SHRINE - PRAYERS**

**Today, 10:49 PM - KIRIN**: _Kira, I must thank you for exposing the truth to the world. As I write to you from within this forum – wondering if you would ever read my words – I cannot help but be impressed._

_Impressed by how easily your followers gave up their own free will to join your cause. For your ability to take life, you have become their 'saviour' – a saviour who was undeservingly raised upon a pedestal. After all, by definition of the law and in accordance to any decent person's morals, your actions make you no better than the simplest of criminals._

_Or even the worst of them._

_For in the end, there is nothing worst than a hypocrite. A mass murderer is a mass murderer, despite their 'noble' intentions; but you do not care about us ordinary folks' opinion, do you now? _

_After all, what can us lowly mortals ever do when you can terminate our unworthy existence but on a whim?_

_Or can you?_

_Can you reach me from your lofty throne? Can you track down my identity and execute this undeserving infidel?_

_You could not kill L and I doubt you could finish me off._

_And if your omniscient self cannot even eliminate such insignificant obstacles – these pesky _unknown _traitors to your cause – do you really believe you can actually control an entire population?_

_Many may be too scared to oppose you but really, you have no power over us. Your only claim to 'godhood' originates from your delusional sycophants' ravings._

_And there, you may find the origin of my 'eternal gratitude': I must thank you for exposing the lack of will and the cowardice buried so deeply in our society. I must thank you for so effectively destroying critical thinking. For creating your own brand of religion._

_I wish you swift justice in your holy mission and may your devout minions enjoy this enlighteningly degrading experience. For is there anything more fulfilling than bowing and scraping at the feet of the mass murderer of all mass murderers – the very thing they abhor?_

**Today, 10:50 PM - PRINCESS1990**: _How dare you address Kira-sama this way! May you die a horrible horrible death!_

**Today, 10:50 PM - KILLING-GRACE**: _LOL. I think you just signed your death warrant._

**Today, 10:52 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Umm… I don't think you should have said that here. I can sorta get what you're getting at but really, Kira is killing the criminals for us, making our world a better place. Shouldn't we be grateful for that?_

**Today, 10:55 PM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _KIRIN, this site is the holy gathering ground of Kira-sama's most devout followers. Heathens and sinners such as yourself are not welcomed. I warn you, if you dare insult our Lord's sacred mission again, you would be excommunicated – forever banned from this forum and Kira-sama's graces._

**Today, 10:59 PM - KIRIN**: _I laugh as I read over your responses._

_So little will, all sprouting the same few words! You say you are his followers, but do you know what and especially _who_ you are following?_

_You say his killing criminals is righteous, but who is this 'Kira' to have the right to decide whether a person deserves to live or die? It matters not if his current victims are criminals. What matters is that you 'devout followers' are giving him free reign to undermine your judicial system._

_You say you are his followers. Are you willing to follow him into hell? Are you willing to let him govern your entire lives? He is no leader, for leaders guide, direct and govern. Kira kills._

_It is his only power. But then, any human, any person can kill. Would you call me 'saviour' if I took your life?_

_It would save you from this mindless existence…_

**Today, 11:03 PM - VIRTUOUS**: _Just try it if you dare. Kira would give you your due._

_ROT IN HELL!! Mwahahahahaha._

**Today, 11:05 PM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _You have been warned. May this be a lesson to any other non-believers who dare venture into this site._

**Today, 11:08 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Well, it's not like Kira really made any demands. I approve of all he's doing now. It's great that the criminals are finally being punished and it makes up for the police's failings._

_And really, if that's all he wanted, to reform our system, then why not? I'd be happy to contribute! He hasn't made any unreasonable demands yet so who are YOU to judge him now?_

**Today, 11:09 PM - RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE**: _How dare you question God? Because really, what else can Kira be but our Lord and Saviour? Only God can eliminate the pests in our society without even touching them. Only he has the right and power to truly punish all these sinners!_

_Caught up in your pretentious ignorance, you are unable to see the truth._

_You wonder if we will follow him to the end – to Hell itself – and we, or at least I, will. It is not my place to question God's motives but I know he will not lead me astray. And if you believe Hell is our destination, then you are wrong. For why ever would a God end up in Hell?_

_And why would I even dare doubt God's judgement? His is the only truth: when you sin, divine punishment will be administered. Our system – made by humans – is failing. It is corrupted to a degree. It is no wonder it needs divine interference. God is here to cleanse it, to remake the world into a peaceful harmonious one. Where the virtuous would thrive and be happy._

_You, who do not understand the greatness of his vision and mission, have no right to question Kira-sama's actions. Already, I am certain that your punishment is underway._

_It is too late to escape it but perhaps you can still reform… before you are forever eliminated._

_If you do not, then I have no pity for your damned soul._

**Today, 11:13 PM - KIRIN**: _If he truly is 'God' and 'all-knowing', why would any of you ever think of providing him with victims? What right do you have to try and influence his kills? You believe him to be the ultimate judge and executor after all._

_Should he not be omniscient?_

_It is hilarious when you think about it. After reading your comments, it seems to me that Kira is more like your 'idol' than your 'saviour'. Every single one of you is following him like lost puppies because this is the latest 'trend'. You want to be like him, you admire his foolish ideals and so, you aspire to become his followers. You publicize the names of those _you_ in term believe deserve death._

_Since when has killing – or wishing for someone's demise – become the newest hobby? Since when have your contemporaries' lives become nothing but toys in your hands – for you to try to discard at will?_

_I pity you for your arrogance, for your delusional self-righteousness – or better yet, for trying to model all your values on Kira's. If a mass murderer is your idol, you leader, what does that make you?_

_You people truly are pathetic._

_You justify murders by bringing out the 'failing system'. But are you all so useless, so dependant on others, that you are unable to correct it yourselves? Must a Killer, of all things, do it for you?_

_You are not an invalid. You are each your own person, with your own free will and your own power. And yet, you expect to be delivered everything on a silver plate._

_Do you truly believe your 'saviour' would simply hand out utopia to a bunch of spineless cowards?_

_You do not deserve your ideal society if you cannot work for it yourselves._

**Today, 11:20 PM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _What the heck did you do KIRIN?_

_You better abandon whatever you're playing at right this moment. I do not appreciate having someone like you meddling with our system. Do not think Kira-sama would let this go._

_This time, you have gone WAY too far…_

* * *

To be truthful, when he had first started going through the various 'Kira-worshipping' sites, he had not expected much: a lot of mindless praising, declarations of undying loyalty and even some sick Kira-wannabes.

He had not expected to be this amused.

This was the second site he had gone through and it currently made up one of the biggest pro-Kira communities in Japan – maybe even the world (after all, ever since he had revealed the mass murderer's location, a lot of attention has been shifted into the small island). As he had expected, there was much speculation going on. Each member, while pleading for some swift action, was also trying to figure out why Kira had yet to kill Heishi Saburou. Their theories occupied a wide range: from unoriginal rational ones to ludicrous conspiracies involving alien abductions of all things.

Of course, L had already come up with every single one of these. His little venture into this god-forsaken forum served only to confirm his suspicion: the public had been perfectly fooled, and so should Kira have been.

Unless the task force has truly been compromised. He frowned.

And that was why he had finally decided on calling the FBI. He would take no chance.

However, this little point of interest was not what had grabbed his flighty attention. No, just as he was about to leave, he noticed that one particular section of the forum was particularly active. Viewers have aggregated to witness a furious battle of wits in a section devoted to praying for Kira. Intrigued, he skimmed through the messages and was immediately hooked.

He had blinked a few times when he had first stumbled into Kirin's second paragraph. It didn't belong here. Eyes wide and unblinking, he reread it. The rest of the text – and all the other posts by Kirin – were just as delightfully sarcastic and biting. The detective had to bite his thumb in order to hide his grin.

This Kirin… he was _bold_. Maybe a tad insane for actually going after a bunch of Kira fanatics and trying to subtly beat some sense into them, but…

… he was a man after his own heart.

Tilting his head to one side, he thought for a bit. It wouldn't do to let his compatriot face these rabid fans alone. It would be such a shame that such an intelligent mind had only a group of dunderheads for company. Maybe he should…

Yes, he had some time to spare. For a few days now, the waiting game had begun between him and Kira. It would stay that way until the mass murderer finally made his move on Heishi. If not, he wouldn't have any additional clues to work with – despite the ever-increasing number of victims.

As for profiling the NPA members for possible suspects and leaks, that must unfortunately have to be put on hold until the FBI finished their investigation – which wouldn't be for a while now as he had only called the agency's director half an hour ago.

No. Giving out a few hours of his time would be no chore nor sacrifice from his part. L had never bothered with the masses before. However, seeing this clearly brilliant Kirin criticizing and leading those sycophants around left him with a need to join him in antagonizing them.

Though only a distraction, this was clearly what he needed in order to get rid of his pent up frustration. He was not working on any side cases this time – with Kira clearly occupying his every moment and attention – and the current situation left him with an itch. He deeply resented his lack of progress.

At least this way, he would not be deviating from his duties. With any luck, he may even gain a new insight on the case.

L slowly blinked at that, amazed by the direction of his thought.

Decision made, L crouched over his laptop in a way that made him look as though he was perched over it. From a good foot above the keys, his gangly index fingers rapidly descended and hit them one after the other, their soft clicking sounding quite similar to tap dancing.

"Watari, get me a strawberry cheesecake." He ordered. His fingers didn't pause from their complex acrobatics.

He deserved the desert after all. It wasn't every day he decided to engage with the public – and especially with non-investigators. Or tried to help out someone in a battle of wits (Kirin should be quite honoured to have the greatest mind at his side – though he would never know it).

Really, it was rather generous of L.

The fact that Kirin seemed so very fascinating had nothing at all to do with his strange decision.

* * *

His books were all pushed to a side of his desk, each placed neatly on top of the other. Making up another stack were his assignments and the essay he had been working on. He was done with his studies for the night and the tidiness of his desk bore witness to the fact. Its surface was clear and even his pens and pencils were back in the cup.

Slowly, every few seconds, his finger would press on the 'down' key as he read through the forum. He would occasionally pause to reply to a lesser member's remarks. But even then, he preferred to remain a silent observer.

After all, these ignorant worshippers did not _truly_ comprehend the magnificence that was God. Only Teru did. Only Teru truly understood God's will and mission.

In the same way that only he could aspire to become like God, those naïve fanatics could only aspire to be like Teru: a true believer.

Still, despite their clear differences, he hung around in sites like this one when he had finished his schoolwork. This was the only way he knew that would bring him closer to God. By mingling with all the other followers, he hoped to at least attract God's attention. After all, he was different than them. _He_ was truly righteous. Not like those copycats. His devotion would set him apart from the rest and God would know…

This forum served him in that way. His commitment and his virtue shone through in his comments – not like those dim-witted fanatics'.

This time however, it was not another of those aspirant Kira worshippers' posts that roused his ire. They were not the reason his knuckles turned almost white. His hands have clenched into a tight fists and his eyes were spitting venom as he read and reread that defiant 'Kirin's' comments.

That unworthy sacrilegious bastard!

How dare he insult God that way! How dare –

Still, there was nothing he could do but reply and without pausing, he typed in a furious response. That Kirin had no right to sprout such blasphemy here! He deserved to die.

Teru knew, was convinced, he would. Just like his mother who wasn't righteous and _couldn't_ understand justice…

He would have his due.

As soon as he finished, he didn't take the time to reread his short message and immediately posted it. The scowl did not leave his face.

Every few seconds, he refreshed the page, waiting for a response. Although Kirin might have been kicked out from the forum by now, there was always a chance he would reply.

He better.

Teru impatiently tapped his desk. The nails of his fingers made short click click sounds as they hit the wood.

Exactly three minutes and thirty-four seconds later, Kirin's reply appeared. Teru straightened his back, eagerly reading the response – wondering how Kirin had reacted and if he would have had the presence of mind to repent.

It did not happen but even then, Teru could not dismiss the blasphemer's sharp retort. Because he was right… right up to a certain point.

And the train of thoughts that accompanied that realisation left him shocked.

All those in the forum – all those apart from Teru of course – were idiots who had no understanding of Kira. He knew that, had known it before he had even joined the online community. However, he had not thought about how that would affect God's outlook on him.

By hanging around them, would he even be able to catch God's attention? Would He truly see how _different _and _true to God's ideals_ Teru was, unlike those other Kira-whorshippers?

After all, why ever would God grace such idiots with his precious time?

No, it wouldn't do. He shouldn't have kept such lousy company. It did not reflect well on his person.

In addition, devoting all he currently had to God was not enough – not when he wasn't actually doing anything. He had to act. He had to help God.

After all, what good was he as his most loyal if he simply sat there, hoping God would notice him? What good was he if he did not fully throw himself into God's cause? Take actions… as Kirin had suggested.

God may be cleansing the world of criminals, but there was so much corruption, so much ugliness and God couldn't take care of it all. But he, Teru, could help.

He could _help_ God out, unlike all those useless fools out there.

Though his thoughts were spinning like crazy, Teru knew what he had to do. He had to get closer to God.

His right hand reached out for the mouse and he opened a new window. He frowned. God lived in the Kanto area. That was what that disgraceful L had revealed.

Teru's destination was clear.

He would have to transfer into Tokyo U for his last year in law.

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

Click. Click.

His chin resting in the palm of his hand, Raito leisurely went through the files he had managed to 'appropriate' from Aoi Corporation. It was tedious work, going through all the different folders individually, but he would not trust anyone else with the job. His subordinates were all too careless for one – never paying attention to the details and only rapidly scanning through documents. In addition, this dull work kept his mind away from other matters. Matters he should not be involved in because of his lack of true power within the organisation.

He sighed.

The inevitable gang war would not resolve itself – especially with his half-brother fuelling it – but his hands were tied.

Although it was his responsibility to negotiate the contract with Viper, he had to send Yamamoto-san in his stead into the serpent's lair. Takamiya-sama only rarely let him appear in public and if so, never as his son.

It was as though he wanted to keep Raito's records as clean as possible on the surface. Now that he knew of his plan to enrol him into Toudai, his adoptive father's plan became all too clear to him: he wanted Raito to represent them aboveground and gain groundwork for the yakuza there. Time and all the new laws coming up were slowly eroding away the yakuza's comfortable way of life. Though they easily managed to deal with all the 'reforms' in the police, it was still quite aggravating.

Thus, the yakuza too needed a respectable surface.

However, the oyabun's scheme hardly benefited Raito. Though he might have appreciated this form of 'consideration' in his youth – as he was spared from having to debase himself publicly – it did not help his case now. He had no real position within the Black Dragon. The elders might know him and somewhat respect him, but he was an unknown to the lower ranks. An unknown constantly vilified by the rumours Katsuo gleefully spread.

If only he could somehow change his position. He looked down at his keyboard in thought. He had occasionally mused on the matter but never gave it much consideration. But now, with the situation so critical, he absolutely needed to gain more power and influence.

Suddenly, hurried feet rushed towards his door. Shouting was heard in the distance. The voices were frantic, as though a great tragedy had struck and they had no idea how to organise themselves. Before Raito even had time to turn around and glimpse outside, his door banged open.

His cell phone rang.

"Ta-takamiya-san. Your father, oyabun-sama is…"

Yamamoto-san barged into his room.

"Raito-san, your father had –"

But he wasn't listening anymore. His face was frozen in shock, his phone still being held a few centimetres away from his face.

"He had a heart attack." He muttered in disbelief, perspiration slowly running down.

"And Viper is declaring war on us. But… do you think – could it have been Kira?"

* * *

**A/N:** This is my gift to you guys before I leave for a long period of studying. My second set of midterms is coming up (we have two series of midterms and a week of finals every semester… go figure why they call the tests that way) and I know I shouldn't be writing fanfic but… well, I couldn't resist.

Anyway, in order to get this out of my system quickly, I just cut the chapter in half. It was better this way since this chapter is already of a decent length and I still have around half the events to go through. By dumping them into another chapter, it would give me time to develop those parts nicely – as I wouldn't feel limited by the need to compress them.

Well, as you can see, things are really starting to pick up. We're approaching one of the first major battles. grin Should be interesting. Not to mention all the 'quiprocos'/irony.

Oh! And thank you SO much for the reviews for last chapter. Can't wait to see what you guys think of this one. Reviews, comments, criticisms of any sort are always welcomed!

_Edited 26/07/08_


	7. Of Plans and Manipulations

_Warning: The days that posts are released on the forum do not always follow the order of the characters' current actions (I try to spread them between the various scenes). Hope you don't get too confused. _

Chapter 6

Of Plans and Manipulations

* * *

_**January 9**__**th**__** 1998**_

"We're home!"

"Welcome back," answered his mother as she left the kitchen and walked up to them. She was slowly drying her hands on her apron. "Did you have a nice day at school?"

"Uh huh!" Sayu answered enthusiastically, bobbing her head at every few words. "We told each other what we did over the holidays and then we drew pictures of it. It was fun!" She scrunched her nose. "But then, we reviewed the stuff we've learned. I don't think I would have done well at all if nii-san hadn't already looked over it with me…"

Raito fondly watched over his sister's antics. "And it's a good thing I reminded you of your homework or who knows how you'd have done! Don't forget it next time, 'kay?"

He finished by patting her on the head. She immediately slapped his hand away. "Nii-san!" She cried out, quickly twisting around to properly glare at him.

Her effort was wasted however. Her brother had already left her side and started going upstairs. He paused midway in his climb. "Mom," he said after a short moment, "I'll be working in my room so don't disturb me, alright?"

"You have homework already!" Came Sayu's gloating voice.

"Shh…"

"It's fine. I'll bring cookies when they're done."

"You're making cookies! Can I help? Can I?"

Jumping up and down excitedly, his sister led his mother back into the kitchen. Without sparing the scene a second glance, Raito rapidly mounted the last few steps and entered his room. He immediately locked the door behind him.

After all, there was no way his parents would ever approve of his newest hobby.

Despite his pleas, his father had refused all his requests. He had refused to let him help out with his cases. He had insisted that Raito was far too young to be exposed to the world's cruelties. Such an irrational excuse… He hated how patronizing it sounded.

Really, he had expected better of his father – the police chief knew all about his achievements and how grown-up and intelligent his son was. The preteen huffed, dropping his schoolbag on the floor next to his desk. He should have known better.

Sometimes, adults simply exasperated him. His parents were no exception to the rule.

Could they not _see_ that Raito was far more mature than the kids his age? He knew the world was rotten – why else would his father have a job? – and he wanted to do his part. He wanted to help.

If you examined the situation logically, there was no reason to rebuff his offer. He was an asset, not some snot-nosed ignorant little brat with far too great of an ego. He was smart for his age, and a good deal smarter than most adults – if not all. It was quite sad really, but Raito could not think of a single one who could match his intellect. Thus, it was arrogant of _their_ part to believe otherwise – that they could do without him – and it showed how little they knew.

There was no way a mere refusal would stop him. In fact, it only served to spur him on.

Raito smirked, comfortably installing himself before his computer.

It served them right for underestimating him, his resourcefulness, his determination, and especially his infinite _boredom_.

Despite his parents' beliefs, his enriched classes did nothing for him. They were all far too easy. He only deigned to keep them to keep his parents happy and because they served as a nice cover-up. Enduring the establishment's false advertisement and its condescending pretentious teachers was a small price to pay when it kept suspicion away from his _real_ pursuit.

Two weeks ago, overcome by boredom, he had decided to hack into his father's computer. Raito had rapidly been dismayed by how easy it was. That the NPA had such feeble security was quite pathetic actually, but he paid it little thought, rapidly distracted by the treasures he had uncovered.

There were so many cases waiting to be solved in the NPA, but his father's were the ones that deserved his immediate attention. After all, undermining the yakuza, _an entire organisation of criminals_, was far more interesting and challenging than simply fighting individual crooks.

That he still desired to help his father – despite his rebuttal – was a given.

It took very little time for Raito to gain access to all their information and find out how ineffectual their department actually was. They lacked order and basic methodology. Raito was certain this was why they were unable to uncover the yakuza's latest drug rings though the NPA blamed their failure on the loss of their previous informant.

_Pathetic! Could they not solve it without one?_

Barely sparing the department a disdainful thought, Raito had immediately devoted all his attention into the investigation. It didn't take him long to become hooked. To pit his mind against an entire organisation was so energizing, so _refreshing_. It was different than reading books or solving textbook problems. It was a real life situation. He had to use all his resources – though limited – and brains in order to win.

Hacking into the NPA or any other computer may be simple, but knowing where to invest his energy was an entirely different matter. Those parasites' operations spanned over such vast expanses after all.

But the preteen had managed. With the little clues the Organised Crime Department had managed to collect and his own deductive abilities, he had succeeded in triangulating the yakuza's trafficking network. He had uncovered the location of one of their cache of methamphetamine: a small seemingly abandoned warehouse commonly known as Yellow Box.

Sending the tip had been easy. He had gone off to print out his message at a public library. There was no need for excessive measures as he was quite certain the police would refrain from seeking him out. They did not want to alert the yakuza of yet another leak after all. Still, as a precaution, he had erased his fingerprints from both the paper and the envelope. His conviction did not necessary mean he had to be sloppy.

This first experience had not been enough to satisfy Raito however. He had never felt as invigorated and he had absolutely no desire to relinquish the feeling. Nor did he wish to sink back into his previous level of apathy. Thus, after happily noting that his father had followed his advice, Raito had kept creeping back into the NPA's mainframe seeking out more clues, more caches of drugs… more challenges. From extortion schemes to protection rackets, he wanted to uncover them all.

This first try had shown him how stimulating thwarting the bad guys was. It had shown him his potential.

And most importantly, it had shown him how much the NPA needed him – despite what his father had affirmed. They were no match for him, neither the police officers nor those simple thugs.

As his fingers flew over the keyboard, his young form eagerly leaned closer to the screen. There was a carefree smile on his face.

It was simply such a shame that a powerful organisation like the Black Dragon had been bested by an eleven, almost twelve-year-old.

_Shows how much _they_ know…_

* * *

_This it happens in affairs of state, for when the evils that arise have been foreseen (which it is only given to a wise man to see), they can be quickly redressed, but when, through not having been foreseen, they have been permitted to grow in a way that every one can see them, there is no longer a remedy. Therefore, the Romans, foreseeing troubles, dealt with them at once, and, even to avoid a war, would not let them come to a head, for they knew that war is not to be avoided, but is only to be put off to the advantage of others…_

* * *

_**December 11**__**th**__** 2003**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - SINNERS WAITING EXECUTION**

**Yesterday, 6:35 PM - HITOMI2003**: _Kira, my boss is a lying cheat. Her name is Machida. Please kill her. I'd be eternally grateful…_

**Yesterday, 11:43 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Kira-kun. I believe you should make sure to add your own name to this growing list. If criminals who have evaded the system do not escape your peculiar brand of justice, I do not believe you should either._

_And while you're at it, add 'SHADOW-PETAL', 'NUMBER-ONE-FOLLOWER', 'KIRANATIC', 'HITOMI2003' and all the others._

_Condoning murder shouldn't be allowed either._

_Thank you for understanding and I await the news of your death with impatience._

**Yesterday, 11:47 PM - BLACK-PROPHET**: _What the heck are you talking about? How can you simply ask for someone's death like that?_

_And especially mock Kira's noble sacrifice! He is nothing like those murdering criminals!!_

**Yesterday, 11:51 PM - HITOMI2003**: _Why are you against me? I did nothing wrong!!_

_Machida-san's the one who blamed all the company's mishaps on me! It's not my fault we lost a client today. Why would you wish the death of people you don't even know!_

_I hate you. I HATE YOU!_

**Yesterday, 11:58 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Uh… what is it with all you anti-kiras appearing all at once?_

_Asking for all those people's deaths like that, aren't you going a bit far? Though I can kinda understand where KIRIN is going at, you, on the other hand, are just nuts._

**Today, 12:00 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _confused look Isn't this what you are all doing? Asking for sinners and murderers – _people you do not know_ – to die?_

_Kira is killing. He is a serial killer. He deserves to die._

_Isn't that right Kira-kun?_

**Today, 12:03 AM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _Why must all you sinners come and disrupt Kira-sama's sacred grounds? How dare you and KIRIN actually corrupt our system? I demand that you undo whatever you've done to our server and leave this forum at once!_

_It is a complete disgrace to see your filthy messages still polluting our threads._

_This is your last warning._

_Kira-sama would not be as merciful._

**…**

**Today, 11:13 PM - KIRIN**: _It is somewhat strange for me to see another insane voice of reason crusading amongst these fanatics. A voice of reason or antagonism?_

_ANTI-KIRA, your name quite clearly states your intentions. However, do you truly believe in what you say or are you only here for the thrill of provoking them?_

_If so, I hold nothing but contempt for you and your imitations. Critical thinking does not equal to opposing the majority._

**Today, 11:16 PM - ANTI-KIRA**:_ KIRIN-kun is quite arrogant._

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

Raito sat in silence at the back of Yamamoto-san's car as the elder man drove them back towards the estate. All the bosses of Black Dragon's various subgroups in Japan would convene there in about an hour. The last time such a large scale assembly had been convoked was in the months preceding the implantation of the Botaiho – the countermeasures the NPA has established to fight organised crime – in 1992.

After all, intergang conflicts have remained quite mild this last decade. The yakuza had no wish to overly antagonize the police.

But now, peaceful resolution was out of the question and with the approaching war, the small-time dispute was no longer an internal affair to be handled by the upper echelon of the organisation.

What was to take place was not a simple meeting between the komon – Takamiya-sama's advisors. It was not one of their monthly gatherings in their downtown headquarters.

It was a war council – one without their leader.

And there lay their greatest problem and weakness.

Takamiya-sama's stroke could not have occurred at a worst time. His son's reckless actions have fractured the group and caused dissent amongst them all. He had even brought the Tsuchinoko Alliance at their doors.

Retribution would be demanded for the murder of Viper's second-in-command.

However, with their oyabun currently recovering in a private hospital in Hokkaido, they had no authority to act. Takamiya-sama was in no condition to coordinate his people or curb his unruly offspring.

War was at their door and their organisation was at the brink of collapsing. Raito may not have seen it, but he could imagine it. Whispers of succession would carry out throughout the underworld and greedy ambitious fools would want to take advantage of the oyabun's current indisposition.

Even now, he knew that Manabe-san, Tsuchinoko's fourth generation boss, would soon be moving in, in the hopes of taking over their organisation.

Some of their own might allow it, wishing to side with the more powerful group in order to gain their oyabun's favour.

It was not a situation Raito would ever allow.

Not when he has worked so long and hard to –

Closing his eyes, the yakuza sank deeply into his thoughts, working out plans and counter-plans. Strategies were spun and discarded as quickly as they came; his thoughts whirling around in a whirlpool.

The situation was critical but somehow –

– he will work it to his advantage.

Failure was not an option.

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

L had to admit that he was quite amused by this 'Kirin'. Though arrogant and a bit full of yourself – especially when addressing Kira's followers –, the mysterious user had somehow managed to stir _something_ inside the reclusive genius. Perhaps his competitive side.

It was not often he met someone of his intellectual level and particularly not of a similar temperament to his own. Though his initial posts have been a mix of sarcasm and depth, when pushed and prodded hard enough, Kirin turned out to be quite introspective and at times, juvenile.

It seemed he didn't like L's annoying habit of overanalysing some of his statements and would retaliate in turn – thus turning the discussion into a repartee of philosophical speculations and childish arguments.

Throughout it all, the level of insight he showed never left. It was as though he was searching for an answer and using Anti-Kira as his sounding board.

L had never been so fascinated by another's thought processes. It was such a shame that Kirin seemed only to be available at night, near midnight. Though attacking the idiotic sycophants populating the forum was a somewhat worthy distraction, it never managed to stimulate him as much as his banters with Kirin. He preferred to leave them watching on as annoying, but necessary bystanders, completely dumfounded by the intricacies of Anti-Kira and Kirin's word games and debates.

It was the challenge he craved, the one he shared with Kirin as they tried to surpass each other, all the while steamrolling over the mass murderer's scores of toadies.

But even then, in midst of their most heated debates on political and social issues – there was only so much about Kira they can discuss – Kirin always managed to keep a facet of himself apart. He remained remarkably evasive on certain topics, unwilling to engage himself completely. It was as though he was simply content to constantly act as the devil's advocate.

Though annoying, it didn't really matter to L in the end. Whether the man was sprouting his own opinion or not, the challenge his intellect presented was enough for the insomniac for now. After all, he had found a worthy opponent after Kira had failed so dismally in the task – due to his stubborn prevailing silence.

Now, if only he was available during the day too. At times like these, the world class detective was quite annoyed by how workaholic the Japanese all were. He was one himself and it really wasn't his place to criticize others, but he was L and he was allowed to do so.

In addition, he had never been so bored before thanks to his multiple ongoing cases. Kira however had the indecency to demand all his attention while unwilling to provide him with any decent clues on his whereabouts.

Though he could work on something else under one of his numerous aliases, L knew he could not afford the distraction – the forum was another matter altogether.

He sighed.

His current boredom thus explained his present task: tracking down Kirin. L was quite proficient as a hacker and he had decided to pit his skills against his unknown opponent a few hours ago.

Up to date, he was failing miserably. The detective bit into his thumb, trying to decide his next plan of action. Kirin hadn't left his IP address of course. After all, he had prevented the moderator from deleting his posts and disabling his account. To be able to successfully subvert a forum's server would require skills. Kirin wouldn't have made such an elementary mistake.

Yet, L had expected to find a trace of some kind, a forgotten residue of his actions. But there was nothing… _nothing._

"L," came Watari's voice, "the meeting's starting."

The world-class investigator sighed once more and opened a new window. He would work on figuring Kirin out later. After all, his unknown rival wasn't exactly doing anything illegal and there was no reason – nor rush – for the detective to invade his privacy yet.

Easing his legs into the lotus position, he watched the current proceedings. The atmosphere was quite tense in the department. According to Watari, that was due to the problems the Organized Crime Department was currently encountering. The yakuza were once again stirring up.

L paid no attention to the matter. He did not care about crime syndicates' internal conflicts. These groups only came to his attention if the law enforcement was unable to contain their operations and if those very operations arouse his interest.

It did not happen that often. He preferred fighting individual crafty murderers – not bureaucratic villains with far too much influence and money.

Still, if ever Kira decided to take an uncanny interest in that brand of criminals – more than he was now (there was only a total of six mafia members killed up to date, which was a pretty reasonable number) – then L may start to involve himself.

But he doubted it.

To Kira, murderers were murderers, all placed upon the same level. Rapists were the only exception.

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - SINNERS WAITING EXECUTION**

**Today, 3:07 AM - KIRIN**: _You are a fool for regarding L's actions so highly. He may brilliant, his plan a work of genius, but he is too reckless and childish. In no way is he our 'only recourse' against Kira._

**Today, 3:08 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Is KIRIN-kun insinuating he would have done better?_

**Today, 3:12 AM - KIRIN**: _Where ever did you get such a ridiculous idea? No, I do not think I will be able to compete with L. However, we do not need a detective hiding in the shadows to fight off Kira. We do not need either L or Kira dictating our morals for us, for that is what L has done._

_He has forced the public to choose a side, for Justice or 'Justice'. By throwing out a challenge to Kira on national television, the world has suddenly been divided into two – or three, if you count those without an opinion whatsoever. Throughout this division, people have forgotten to think for themselves and analyse the situation in all its intricacies, in all its hypocrisies._

**Today, 3:14 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun is quite an idealistic for believing the public would be able to decide what is 'right' and 'wrong'. If you have forgotten, there is a reason law enforcement exists and it is not there to simply stand on the side and let Kira run loose._

**Today, 3:15 AM – KIRIN**: _You are deliberately trying to misunderstand me! You know very well I do not condone Kira's actions. I am not about to undermine the legal system and ask the public to make all the decisions themselves._

_What I am questioning is the hypocrisy both parties showed, without anyone thinking anymore about it. That many of us are rooting for L to win, all the while ignoring the costs of his 'supposed victory,' is almost as bad as what Kira's followers are doing._

_There is no black and white, only shades of grey._

**Today, 3:18 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _It seems you have thought about this matter in details. What do you truly find so reprehensible about L's actions? Though a criminal was sacrificed, the cause was just, especially since Lind L. Taylor was already on death row._

_His death was regrettable but the gains more than make up for it._

**Today, 3:19 AM - KIRIN**:_ 'Necessary evils', right?_

_But is that not Kira's own policy? Is his 'eliminating the scum of this world' not a necessary evil too? And always, the evil lies within criminals. They are always the lives sacrificed for justice's cause because of their past infractions._

_You know, looking at it, it really does seem as though their lives are expendable. They are a drain to our society and a burden to our prisons. Why not eliminate them all? Why not make use of them._

_After all, all lives are not equal._

_This is the impression Kira projected and L reinforced. He sacrificed another to save his own hide. Though understandable, it is not worthy of praise._

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

Yamamoto Osamu slid the shoji door opened, stepping slightly to the left so that Raito may enter at his side. Like a tidal wave, all eyes were drawn up towards his quiet companion as the room's occupants started whispering among themselves. The komon frowned but did not voice his disapproval. There were many rumours flying around about Takamiya-sama and his young protégé. Whether they were true or not was none of his business.

Their relationship in no way had any impact on the syndicate's day-to-day running.

In fact, he could not help but admire the oyabun's foresight when he had decided to adopt the then twelve-year-old. They had all attributed his strange decision to the caprices of aging. For the following years, words of succession had abounded but never a move was made.

During that period, despite a few hot head's mutinous thoughts, Takamiya-sama's grip on the group had not lessened. In fact, it had tightened in certain areas as he had taken a closer interest in some of their smaller operations to the point of completely reordering them.

It hadn't been until two years ago, when their leader had presented the teenager to his closest advisers that Osamu realised the cause of the change. He had been training the boy and the effort had not been wasted.

Raito-san was a prodigy to the truest sense of the word. He had had much involvement with their recent prosperity, easily helping them overcome the irritation the police presented at times.

He was their greatest asset, their secret weapon and it was now time to take him out of the shadows.

"Ah. Yamamoto-san, young master," greeted Morinaga-san, the group's second-in-command, from his position on the zabuton.

Osamu nodded in return and lowered himself onto the square cushion. Raito-san regally did the same on the wakagashira's right.

There were eighteen of them here today. The washitsu's sliding walls have been rearranged to better accommodate them all. To the right were six fusuma. A black dragon that spanned the entire room's length had been painted over its brown surface. In front of each opaque vertical rectangle sat a first level executive. Six of their contemporaries were currently facing them. Shoji limited their side of the room.

With the three who sat opposite to them on the other side of the room, they made eighteen men. Quite a few of the younger ones looked somewhat belligerent, sitting cross-legged on the zabuton and shooting their seniors' looks of disdain.

Of the Black Dragon's fourteen subgroups in Japan, only thirteen of its leaders were here. They have all rushed back to Tokyo upon receiving word of Takamiya-sama's collapse. The only one missing was comprised of the three gangs under Katsuo-san's direct command. As for their eight branches abroad, news and instructions would be relayed to them later.

As it was, the situation was precariously fragile. None of these men have come for altruistic reasons. They were all hoping to snatch more power – not fight off the newest threat. Personal gains and ambitions blinded them from the needs of the syndicate. Believing the Black Dragon's defeat inevitable, they would rather side with the enemy in the hopes of improving their present situation.

The temptations were all too great with their oyabun currently indisposed.

The matter was only made worse by Katsuo-san's idiotic exploits. What did it convey to one's followers when the leader was unable to control his own offspring?

Thus, by bringing Raito-san here, Osamu hoped to curb the situation. Though none of the subgroups' bosses – except for a rare few – knew their leader's adoptive son, he was confident that the teenager was cunning and manipulative enough to see them through the crisis.

It was a very risky gamble, but he trusted Raito-san's abilities. All of Takamiya-sama's advisors have agreed with him on that regard.

Morinaga-sama finally spoke up. "Good, we are all here. We –"

Fujita-san cut him off. "Is it true that Viper has declared war on us?"

The under-boss scowled but responded all the same. "Yes, it is. The Tsuchinoko Alliance would not leave it at that however. Manabe-san will be here tomorrow."

Murmurs travelled through the room as their suspicions were confirmed.

"And what do you propose we do about it?"

"We will see, but I do not believe we should give in –"

"Give in!? There is no choice but to give in!" cried Hojo-san from his seat in the far left corner.

"Morinaga-san, please listen to reason. Do you believe our group stands a chance against Tsuchinoko's ten thousand strong?"

"There is no choice but to bow our head and offer whatever recompense they demand," bitterly concluded Raizo-san.

"But that would be shameful. It wasn't my – I mean our – fault that –"

"– only the oyabun had kept a tight reign on his useless brat!" Came the thunderous voice from his left.

"Fujita-san!"

"But you must admit that it's true." He spat out. His fierce eyes turned towards their youngest member. "And what is his second whelp doing here? Shouldn't he be off in – "

"Fujita-san," Raito-san cut him off sharply, his cold tone freezing whatever thoughts the dissenter had from leaving the tip of his tongue. "Although I may understand your frustration and anger, you need not take it out on Takamiya-sama. After all, are you yourself capable of keeping an eye on all your subordinates?"

The forty-three-year-old scoffed. "Of course I am. _My_ men's loyalty is unquestionable."

"Then I guess your second-in-command running off with 3 million yen was a gift from your part."

Fujita-san reddened in anger at having his shame so publicly exposed but he did not say another word.

The youth's irate amber glare then turned towards the rest of the room, stopping any further protest from their part. Osamu watched on smugly, quite content with the ease the young heir controlled a roomful of cantankerous yakuza bosses.

"And you. I see you arguing about how we should capitulate before Tsuchinoko comes down at us, but are we all so weak that we must bow down at the first sign of danger?"

"Then what do you propose we do! There is no way our thousand men can ever match up to the Kobe syndicate's ten thousand. We would be massacred." Raizo-san sighed and stared down at the ground. The twisted snarl his lips took belied his apparent willing submission. "I would rather keep whatever we have now then lose it all in a fool's gamble. You know nothing about yakuza wars."

"I might not have experienced them but do not think me so ignorant that I would be unaware of its costs. But there is a difference between fighting and throwing away your lives. These last few decades, you have together built up the Black Dragon with Takamiya-sama. Are you so cowardly and weak that you would give it all up at the first sign of 'struggle'?"

Fujita-san immediately latched onto his words. "Well, since it is Takamiya-sama's son fault, why not leave his group to the wolves as a sign of apology. Perhaps Tsuchinoko would be satisfied with the perpetrators."

Murmurs of agreements followed.

Before they had gotten too far however, Raito-san's voice cut in, immediately destroying whatever illusions those cravens might bear. "And do you really think Manabe-san would stop there? With Takamiya-sama recovering in Hokkaido, our position has never been as fragile. He would take advantage of the slight my brother delivered to his in order to swoop up our organisation. Do you think he would be content with an office in Kabukicho when he now has the excuse to realise his ambition and establish a strong foothold in Kanto?"

"Then what do you propose?" Ikuko-san snidely asked.

They were the words Raito-san had been waiting for because immediately after they were spoken, the brunet's eyes took a sly gleam. "We give him Jun's head. We give him the killer of Viper's second-in-command."

"That is your _brilliant_ plan?" Fujita-san jeered. "To hand over one man when, as _you've_ said earlier, an entire subgroup would not do! There is no way Manabe-san would be satisfied with that!"

The young master smiled knowingly. "Exactly. He would not be let us go freely with so little retribution. But giving in to his demands is not my goal. I only want a ceasefire. A temporary truce until further negotiations could be reached. After all, Takamiya-sama is in Hokkaido and in no condition to bow down to Manabe-san's whims. It is quite reasonable for us to ask them to postpone the talks until our oyabun has recovered."

"And you think Tsuchinoko would agree to that?"

"Of course. He would have more time to organise his men for war with this reprieve. A small delay is only to his benefit."

Morinaga-san finally spoke up, adding his doubts to such a plan. "And you still think we would have the advantage in such a fight?"

Raito looked straight into the wakagashira's eyes for a long moment before finally answering. "Yes. We would also use that time to prepare. But that is not all; it would give Takamiya-sama time to come up with something if ever he decides that open war is too risky.

"And then, we must not forget the other Kanto syndicates. For too long now has Tsuchinoko been expanding its reaches all over Japan. It has become the largest organisation in the country. However, our alliance with the other groups has always managed to keep the Kobe based syndicate away from the capital, with Viper as their only office here. They would seek to use this occasion to move in, but do you really believe the other groups would simply let it happen?"

"Are you sure they would help us when it was Katsuo-sama's actions that have brought war upon us?"

"Maybe not, but it is in their interest to prevent Tsuchinoko's further expansion. With the delay, we would have the chance to negotiate an alliance with our friends and neighbours."

"Far too risky." Fujita-san declared, crossing his arms and daring any other to contradict him.

"Fujita-san is right. There are too many variables here. And do you really believe we'd manage to find and kill Jun before tomorrow's meeting? Knowing him, he's probably hid himself deep underground by now, unwilling to show his head."

"Leave that to me. If you agree with my plan, I'll see to it that we have Manabe-san appeased for the next few weeks at least. If need be, I will even empty my funds to buy us that extra time. After all, what would it cost you?" Takamiya-sama's adoptive son smiled sardonically. "If you still want to bow down to Tsuchinoko after that lapse of time, then please feel free to do so.

"This is what I am offering you: time for you to decide on your course of action." Slowly Raito-san stood up and looked over each of the room's occupant. His strong voice resounded through the room. "When suddenly faced with superior strength, it is easy to give in and roll over. It is easy but regrettable." His clear eyes stared at each in turn. There was a breathtaking intensity hidden in their depths. "Think clearly on what you want – scraps from Kobe or the chance of preserving your dignity and your life.

"I, for one, am no coward. I have no wish to leave myself at another's mercy, to be _allowed_ to live. I might be young but I can see clearly. I will not give up without a fight.

"If you give me that time, I promise I will use it to our advantage and with Takamiya-sama's return, we _will_ prevail!"

Watching him go through his speech, Osamu was certain he had never seen Raito-san look so wise and powerful. His posture conveyed nothing but contempt for the weak-willed fools that were in attendance. He had already assessed them and found them lacking. And yet… he had not given up on them, on any of them. Standing there before them, he was commanding his listeners to think for themselves, for their future, for the preservation of their honour. None from his audience could tear his eyes away.

Despite his youth, he towered over them, like a king over his subjects or a god over his followers. Osamu saw many of the younger members staring at Takamiya-sama's protégé in shock.

"I leave you to your decision." Raito-san whispered out softly. Everyone heard his words.

Then, after executing one hasty, though elegant, bow, he turned away and regally swept out of the room. His steps barely made a sound on the tatami mats.

A heavy silence prevailed. After a few moments, as though undergoing an awakening, slowly, one by one, the wheels in the yakuza's mind started turning as it finally processed the youth's words.

Osamu shared a knowing smile with Morinaga-san.

_Yes, Raito-san had done well…_

Better than they had expected in fact, due to the short notice. And yet… and yet, he had managed to come up with a plan to temporarily drive off the syndicate from Kobe and even unite the leaders of their thirteen subgroups – into rethinking their decision to surrender at the very least.

_Now it is our turn._

With some careful prodding from their part, they would slowly direct opinions to Raito-san's favour.

They _will_ prevail.

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - SINNERS WAITING EXECUTION**

**Today, 4:15 AM - KIRIN**: _But do you know what I find so ironic about L and Kira's confrontation on television?_

**Today, 4:17 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _I cannot guess what KIRIN-kun would find amusing about the event. I thought you saw the entire affair as a huge blunder from L's part._

**Today, 4:18 AM - KIRIN**: _Oh shush. You aren't still bitter about that are you? But yes, it is L's blunder that I find ironic. It is quite obvious that Kira kills at set intervals in order to gain the public's attention. However, it was L who truly contributed to his notoriety._

_After all, it was only in sites in Japan that 'Kira' was referred to as 'Kira'. Some from the western world saw him as 'Nemesis', and every region had its own appellation for the killer._

_It was only due to L that 'Kira's' name – probably chosen in consideration to his location – became official._

_And then… it was L who confirmed Kira's existence to the public. With them now aware of a mass murderer punishing criminals, his rule has been established. They may not remain in blissful ignorance anymore. The mysterious deaths can no longer be ignored and thus, L has helped Kira terrify the masses into submission._

_Ironic, no?_

**Today, 4:25 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Yes, I guess you do have a point. However, I find KIRIN-kun's constant consideration for others and the impact both parties' actions have on them a bit excessive._

_I think I finally have KIRIN-kun figured out. Your lectures are simply an attempt from your part to hide your lack of an opinion._

**Today, 4:29 AM – KIRIN**: _Shut up. This is not about me and you know it. Anyway, I have work tomorrow so I'm heading off to bed._

**Today, 4:29 AM – ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun has no stamina._

**Today, 4:29 AM – KIRIN**: _Shut up._

**…**

**Today, 11:06 AM – BLACK-CAT13**: _I can't believe it. They were at it half the night._

* * *

_**December 12**__**th**__** 2003**_

As soon as Raito entered his room, he made sure to slide the door shut and lock it.

"Eh heh. So how are you ever gonna keep all your promises Raito?" The shinigami gleefully asked.

Raito slumped down on his leather chair. He glared. "You know full well how I'll manage." He hissed out, his tone turning dark. "No need to gloat."

"Hyuk. Hyuk. But you've finally given in! And with a war now, there is no better time to use it! Think of all the chaos you can cause – think of all the enemies you'd eliminate! Sure, purging the world of criminals is noble and all but killing by heart attacks gets boring after a while. With a war, just think of the possibilities!"

Sparing the death god one last incensed glare, Raito turned away from Ryuk and towards his desk. He immediately grabbed his notepad and started jotting down his ideas.

The shinigami loomed over his shoulder, trying to get a better look at what the human was doing. "Planning new deaths now?"

"_Shut up_." He breathed out between gritted teeth. "This is a one time affair. Don't count on it happening again. You know my vow."

"But it's broken now, so why keep it?"

Raito did not answer.

Matters were quickly complicating. He was certain he'd manage to buy the necessary time. It was to both parties' advantage after all. But to get through the war…

He did not know how he'd succeed. There were only so many factors he could manipulate. It all depended on the others.

The yakuza ran a frustrated hand through his silky strands. It would be so simple, _so so_ simple to simply use the notebook and kill them off.

Make it look like an accident.

But he would never stoop so low. Tsuchinoko's leaders' deaths would serve no purpose. Others – their more ruthless members – would simply fight their way up to take over the largest syndicate in Japan. Overall, it would only throw the underground into turmoil and cause more harm than good.

Even the other crime organisations would not be spared. They were all too selfish and ambitious to not interfere when the Kobe syndicate was so vulnerable.

No. He had to plan his next few steps carefully and _without_ the use of the Death Note.

When he was halfway through the second page, his cell phone suddenly rang.

Frowning at the unknown caller, Raito picked it up. "Takamiya here."

"Ah… _Raito-chan_." Came the speaker's oily depreciating voice. "Now how is the baby yakuza doing?"

The youth scowled. Etsuko, the director of the Organised Crime Department and his father's successor after he had transferred. He quite hated the man and he was certain the feeling was mutual.

The civil servant was as slippery as an eel in all his dealings. Although he was at the head of the anti-yakuza campaign, he held many 'business relationships' with them as well. As long as they did not involve themselves in civilian affairs, the police officer was quite happy to overlook a good number of their operations. After all, there were many advantages derived from maintaining friendly relations with the underworld. For one thing, they were more inclined to avoid antagonizing the law.

Etsuko thus believed the bribes he accepted were his well-earned due for maintaining public order.

And yet, despite his corruption, he managed to keep all his tracks hidden. There were no tarnishes to any of his records. Raito hated the way his father's replacement so easily mocked all of his predecessor's efforts. It was disgraceful.

"Fine," he responded tersely, "now what do you want?"

"Now, now," Etsuko tsked, "no need to take such a tone with me. I tried calling the higher-ups but they all seem to be in a meeting. Were you left out, baby-chan?"

Raito also despised him for his condescending attitude. But that was a given.

"_What_ do you want?" He repeated his question.

"Well, on to business then." His attitude shifted as the conversation suddenly turned serious. Yet, at the edge of his every sentence, Raito could still make up the contempt the man held for him. "I heard a very disturbing rumour lately. It seems your group has managed to anger Viper and now, Manabe-san is coming to avenge his brother's honour."

They both knew how far _that_ statement was from the truth.

"I do not want a bloodbath on my streets. Find a way to resolve the matter or I'll have my police officers closing down your offices and locking up your people. You know my requirements and you know how much I know about you guys' operations. Be sure to tell the others." He paused for a moment. "Don't disappoint me or daddy dearest may actually die from the next heart attack."

And with that, he hung up.

Raito glared at his phone.

"So Raito, what did the guy say to put you in such a bad mood."

The youth chuckled bitterly. "The police finally decided to do its job and get involved."

_But of course, what other recourse do they have when the yakuza's operations may actually harm civilians?_

"Huh?" Ryuk cocked his head to a side. "What d'ya mean?"

"It means that when the war breaks up, they'll finally crack down on us."

Which would be extremely inconvenient. The matter was complicated enough as it was and they did not need to fight a war on two fronts. Because of the numerous dealings he had had with them in recent years, Etsuko could easily amass enough evidence to convict most of the higher-ups.

Raito's mouth twisted into a grimace. He hated corrupted officials.

Though the officer's threat was valid, Raito refused to pass on the message. He had had enough trouble convincing the others to fight. They did not need another reason to deter them from it.

Etsuko may try to reveal their leaders' crimes to the world but Raito would not allow the realisation of his threat. They did not need the group to collapse in midst of a war. As for the threat concerning the oyabun, there was no way he would ever be executed by Kira – despite his numerous crimes. Such a situation was almost… laughable.

The ringtone was heard once more. This time, it was Yamamoto informing him that they have decided to go through with his proposal. Raito breathed out a sigh of relief.

"I'll have his possible hideouts pinpointed in about an hour." He told the elder man. "Have a group of men organised by that time."

After hanging up, he took out the piece of the Death Note he had hidden within a dictionary.

'_Jun Arata – death by bullet wounds_

_2003/12/12 Friday Afternoon, Kabukicho_

_Inconspicuously heads towards his home_

_Starts running when sees members of Black Dragon_

_Dies at 5:37 PM'_

And then, as he had done so many times before, Raito took out the Zippo lighter Takamiya-sama had once gifted him and burnt the little piece of the Death Note.

But this time, it was different and he could not help but feel a little more of himself fracture as he watched the small rectangular sheet turn to ashes.

* * *

_**December 13**__**th**__** 2003**_

As Raito sat down on the couch in Viper's office, he easily noticed the dark scowl the elder Manabe brother bore. Inwardly, he smirked.

_Good, the rumours were true…_

Manabe Ichirou was the bastard child between Tsuchinoko's previous oyabun and one of his many mistresses. Gossip had it that he had been the favoured the son, the more capable one.

And yet… it was the younger brother who now held the mantle of 'oyabun'. Foul play had probably been at work; the ambitious always preferred to install a puppet at their head – not a leader. His suspicions were further confirmed by observing the interactions between the wakagashira and Manabe Akihito. It was all too evident who was subservient to whom.

_Good… the two brothers' enmity may be used. It is only such a shame that Ichirou-san has no real power as he had been exiled from the main group. The gang he had formed here in Tokyo, though useful, wouldn't be of any help._

It was strange but the only reason the elder Manabe had been allowed to establish himself in Tokyo was because of the severed relationship between the two siblings. The Kanto syndicates had believed that letting Akihito-san's brother take some ground here would be enough to satisfy the Kobe based syndicate, while the brothers' open hostility would discourage Tsuchinoko's oyabun from making any further move into the region.

How wrong they were! Akihito-san was not one to let his hatred divert him from his ambition, At the first sign of weakness from the Black Dragon's part, he had decided to reclaim his brother's men and thus, the conflict as his.

It was no wonder Viper's leader was so annoyed.

"Ah, Black Dragon. I must present all my condolences for Takamiya-san's condition." Akihito-san said mockingly from his seat. His words were dripping with disdain for their smaller organisation.

After all, most of the larger syndicates viewed those who dealt with drug quite lowly. They were seen as weak – lacking the brain and strength to succeed in other types of income. Takamiya-sama considered them to be fools. After all, he was flourishing in those different shinogi as well.

The Black Dragon's oyabun, for his part, believed that diversity was necessary in order to survive. Thus, he had no compunction in dealing with drugs. If he did not appropriate the business, others would. It was through such policies that he had managed to establish one of the largest drug rings inside the country. And made quite a hefty profit doing so.

"My demands are simple." The oyabun dove straight into the matter. "If you wish to avoid a war you cannot win, you simply have to relinquish one quarter of your territory in Kanto, including the area controlled by Takamiya Katsuo. To prevent further retaliation from either part, we will swear an oath of brotherhood. The terms are similar to any of our other brothers': you need only to pay a monthly tribute of twenty million yen for our continued friendship and protection. It's quite simple really." The thirty-seven-year-old finished off smugly.

"Impossible."

All heads turned towards Raito.

"What do you mean by _that_?"

Raito ignored the mocking tone and continued. He leaned back on his seat. "As you know, our oyabun is not here currently and we cannot make such a momentous decision without his approval. I ask that you postpone the negotiations until he has recovered."

Akihito-san burst out laughing. "And why should I do that, eh?" He managed inquire between two guffaws.

"Well, I was hoping this little gift would make up for the inconvenience." He gave Kohashi a quick glance.

Barely hiding his own amusement, the bodyguard walked towards the elder Manabe brother and presented him with a cylindrical box that was about a foot in height.

Curious, Ichirou opened the box and blinked. A stream of chuckles followed. "Thank you." He said, giving Raito a nod in return. His eyes both expressed his gratitude and his glee.

Invisible to them, Ryuk too was cackling.

"I hope your second-in-command's killer's head will sufficiently make up for the delay. After all, he is the one who triggered this debacle."

"Entertaining as it is, we cannot forget all the chaos your people have brought to the streets in the preceding weeks."

"No. But in return, I am willing to offer you sixty million yen." Everyone turned to look at him in shock. It was a lot of money to pay for such a simple affair.

It made no difference to Raito however. Over the years, Takamiya-sama had left quite a hefty sum in his bank account and it had done little but collect interest. It was time to put it to good use. "All I ask for is a delay so that Takamiya-sama may be here in person."

When he saw the greedy look in the oyabun's eyes, he knew he had won.

* * *

L stared despondently at the computer screen.

No, he had not been able to find Kirin at all and then, to make matters worse, the hacker had refused to indulge him for half the night, claiming exhaustion.

L pouted.

As for his investigation, it had not made any progress. Almost a week has passed and still, Kira refrained from acting. The officers were both relieved and annoyed at that. They had highly disapproved of his plan at first but seeing no issue around it – L would have done as he wished anyway – they had accepted.

And now, there was no result to show for their effort. While they were happy they did not have to 'sacrifice' yet another criminal in the fight against Kira, all the time and energy they had invested into the scheme had been wasted.

Many were wondering about the detective's rumoured proficiencies.

L, for his part, idly wondered how long it would take before their tenuous cooperation fractured. The distrust both parties held for each other was slowly growing. He also wondered if it was due to Kira.

"L, we have identified the 6 AM GMT murder. Ushio Aoi, aged forty-three. He was a highly ranked yakuza who was about to be released in three days. I'm sending you the files."

The private investigator frowned as he read through the criminal's profile. Suspected to be one of Tsuchinoko Alliance's most proficient hitmen, the metropolitan police had finally managed to arrest him on lesser charges two years ago.

The fact that interested L however was that Ushio was not supposed to be released for another year and this little change in scheduling – probably paid for by the syndicate's leader – was not known to the larger public.

And yet, Ushio had been killed.

L bit his thumb, grinning victoriously. Here was the clue he had been waiting for.

His first plan might not have worked but still, Kira had managed to confirm his connection with the police force for him. Why else would he have murdered a criminal who was supposed to languish in jail – and thus stay relatively harmless – for another twelve months?

"Watari, contact the head of the FBI for me."

The agents would have to redirect some of their attention towards the Organised Crime Department. After all, were they not the ones who were so anxious and concerned about the possibility of a yakuza war?

* * *

_**December 14**__**th**__** 2003**_

Rita Yuzuki stumbled over the worn carpet in the entrance of her dilapidated apartment building as she exhaustedly made her way towards the stairs. Before proceeding any further however, she took off her stilettos. She would not be able to climb her way up wearing such heels.

Her feet were killing her… but not as much as the ache in her heart.

It had been a long night working at the bar. A long night smiling, joking and cheering customers up when all she wished to do was have a breakdown. She did not know how she had survived these last two weeks but somehow, there was no choice. She had to work. She was the only one who could.

Her parents were in no condition to enter the labour market. Already, they were looking after Yumiko, her ten-year-old daughter, for her and that was more than enough. It was more than enough especially since she was in no condition to see her daughter again. Not like she was now.

Not when all she wanted to do was collapse.

The endless stairs were not helping.

Tiredly, her hands gripped the peeling yellowing plaster of the wall for support. Her feet dragged each time she lifted them. They felt like dead weight.

God… she wanted to end it.

Yuzuki stumbled over the last few steps. Exhausted, she did not glance up from the floor as she walked towards her door. A quiet cough stopped her.

She immediately spun around.

There, a tall man in a suit, a tall man in a suit who looked very dangerous. A tall man in a suit that looked very much like those her brother – _dead brother_, her mind reminded her – used to deal with.

A yakuza.

She paled.

The Yakuza had killed her brother. The Yakuza had killed her son. Her poor, sweet, eight-year-old.

Her innocent little Isamu.

The fear in her eyes must have shown. The rapid beating of her heart must have been heard. Was he going to kill her now? And then her family? And then –

God, whatever did she do to deserve this?

"Rita-san, I have a letter for you from my superior." He pressed the envelope into her hands.

And then, without another word, without hurting her, killing her, doing _anything_, he walked away. Yuzuki stared at his silent form – disappearing as he went down the staircase – in shock.

She looked back at the envelope in her hand.

It was white. It didn't look dangerous.

But what of its content? _A demand, a threat, a –_

She shook her head. There was no way to know but to open it. Cautiously, she broke its seal and took out the piece of paper.

And a small cheque. She stared at it, numb.

_Five million yen. Five million yen_.

_Why the heck was there a five million yen cheque inside that envelope?_

Holding the cheque with one hand and the letter with the other, her eyes switched back and forth between the two. Finally, her head settled on the latter.

'_12__th__ of December 2007_

'_Rita-san,_

'_I have no right to write to you. I can understand if you burn this letter as soon as you realise who I am but even then, I feel the need to apologize._

'_I –_

_I killed your son. There, I wrote it down. I killed him. I may not have shot him but my missed shot killed him on the same. The noise of the gunshot startled him enough that he fell down. Tumbled down the stairs. He died. I killed him._

'_Just as I killed your brother and his friend. No, for those two deaths, I will not excuse myself. They had been intentional: they have betrayed their superior and must thus face the consequence of their actions. I simply did not expect them to be looking after a child. _

'_I… I am sorry._

'_No, before you misunderstand me, I am not writing to ask for your forgiveness. I do not deserve it. How can you ever forgive me for murdering your son? It may have been an accident but…_

'_I am repeating myself, aren't I? Forgive me. You do not know how hard it is for me to try and put the event into writing. I had postponed doing so so many times now. Selfish, no? But it must be done. You deserve an explanation, as skewed as it is._

'_As for the cheque, dispose of it in whichever way would please you. I do not expect you to take it as a consolation for your son's death. Nothing can make up for it. Especially not blood money._

'_No. This is only to help you get started and perhaps move away from the memories of your kin's murders. For a new beginning._

'_Invest it in your parents, you daughter. It could help pay for their healthcare and her schooling. But it is your choice. If you cannot accept this sum from your son's murderer, then throw it away, burn it. I would not be offended._

'_But I must warn you, tension is rising amongst the yakuza and a war may very well start up. I do not know how it will turn but please be careful._

'_You have lost enough to us already._

'_I wish you the best of luck.'_

And with that, Yuzuki collapsed onto the dirty floor, back pressed against the door to her apartment. Her shoulders shook as silent sobs wracked her frame.

* * *

Raito exhaled in relief and collapsed on the back of his chair. The videoconference had gone on without any glitches. The representatives of their various clients have happily gobbled up his secret identity. Various requests and business relations have been established. The FBI had even tried to recruit him.

He had immediately rescinded their offer. It was a shame but the agency simply had to settle for an upgrade on their profiling program – not the programmer.

Still, Raito could not help but be amused by the alias he had finally decided for himself: 'Kirin', the same pseudonym he had used on the Kira forum. There were only so many ways available for him to dissociate himself from the shame of his real life. The program he had made for investigating agencies around the world was one; his experience on the forum was another. There, he was free from his persona as Raito, Kira and even Takamiya-sama's…

He shook his head. There was no need to dwell on such depressing thoughts. Not when his gamble had worked.

He grinned at the shinigami.

"Ryuk, do you know what this means?"

The death god stopped staring at the apple he dangled above his head. "Huh?" He released his hold on the fruit's stem and gobbled it up. "You get more money?"

Slightly exasperated, Raito shook his head. "No, I now have access to all their data regarding all their criminals. I wouldn't have to waste my time hacking into their system anymore." Although a few of the major countries – such as the United States, a few European nations and Japan – already had the program for a little more than a month already, many of their potential clients have been sceptical – that was until they met 'Kirin'.

And then… there was the fact that some criminal organisations would try to acquire the program for themselves, which meant that Raito would be able to watch over their activities as well.

It was stupid, it was overly ambitious of his part but for once, he felt in control. It was refreshing. For once, power did not involve blood and death. It reminded him of the rush he had felt as an innocent child, hacking into his father's computer.

Finally calming down, he checked his cell phone. He had turned it off during the conference. As soon as he saw the call he had missed, he blanched. His previous euphoria instantly vanished.

"Shit."

He immediately called back.

The oyabun picked up after two rings.

"Raito." His voice was furious, bordering dangerous.

The youth looked down at his hands. "Takamiya-sama. I… I'm sorry." He whispered demurely.

"Explain why it took you," a pause, "an hour and a half to respond to my call."

Despite his panic, the lie came easily to his lips. "I was hacking into the police database in order to find out how their investigation on Kira was proceeding. As you know, they have pulled out operatives from different departments in order to deal with the mass murderer. However, with the upcoming yakuza war, the Organised Crime Department, may recall many of its officers." He took a deep breath. "I was trying to find out how many men they would be able to amass against us."

And then, he quickly proceeded to detail the call he had received from Etsuko two days ago and the threat the police chief had made.

He anxiously waited for the oyabun to reply, to see if his lie would pull through. After a pregnant pause, Takamiya-sama finally answered. "Good, you did well." The tension left his shoulder but he did not show any outward sign of his relief. Though he may not see it, there was always the possibility that his adoptive father would hear it. "But next time, do not turn off your cell phone. I do not care if it will distract you from your work. When I call, I expect you to answer immediately."

"Yes sir."

"While you were working on the NPA, I have spoken to Yamamoto-san and Morinaga-san in length. I am quite proud of you and how you managed to postpone the negotiations until the 27th." And it showed in his change of tone. "Although outwardly, the two are in charge, you will direct their efforts in my absence. You have my trust, Raito, do not fail it."

"Of course not…" he hesitated for a moment, "father."

"My sweet Raito." The oyabun breathed out fondly. Raito shuddered. "As for my other son, I heard you have sent Kohashi to hunt him down. There is no need for that anymore. For the threat he has brought down upon our group, Katsuo is hereby expulsed from the Black Dragon. I will write out and send the hamon-jo to our various offices and allies." He sighed. "It is a shame but he is no longer my son… you are my only one now, Raito. Do not fail me."

"Never."

"Good, I will see you soon."

* * *

_**December 16**__**th**__** 2003**_

Raito collapsed on his desk, gripping his temples in his frustration. _There was no choice, there was no choice…_

The massive monstrous creature was watching him gleefully. Laughing, cackling, its yellow eyes glinted with amusement.

"Told you Raito!" Ryuk repeated ever few seconds. "What did I say eh? I always knew you would succumb!"

_I am so sorry. There was no choice._

Pulling out a pen cartridge, he cautiously poked his drawer's fake bottom up in order to reveal the Death Note's unforgiving black cover.

_I am so sorry, but it is the only way._

For his plan mattered above everything else. Even justice, whatever it was.

_L – catch me if you can. Send my damned soul to hell. _

_It is what I deserve after… this._

* * *

_**December 27**__**th**__** 2003**_

On the 27th of December 2003, 144 policemen and secrets agents around the world died of a heart attack. Each left a letter revealing their crimes and thus… the depth and level of corruption of those who were supposed to uphold the law.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm a bad, bad girl. I was supposed to be studying but instead, I spent the entire day writing this. Gah.

Well, as you can see, there's a lot happening. Everything was pretty much building up to this moment and I can tell you, I really felt like cutting this chapter in half but finally decided against it. Didn't want the planning to drag on more than it needed to. It's the aftermath we want, right?

I used a lot more Japanese terms this time so let us hope that it wasn't too confusing. And the yakuza book finally arrived so more accuracy on their structure here!

And thank you all so much for your reviews! Just look at what they've done to me when I was supposed to be studying!! Btw, I find it very amusing that you were all more preoccupied with Takamiya's heart attack (which was just a plot device to keep him out of the way) than the approaching war.

Anyway, I would love to hear what you guys think about this chapter. Baffled? Well, so am I. Kind of.

Okay, see you next time!

PS: According to the poll, it seems you guys all want to condemn Raito to liver problems in later life. Poor guy.

_Edited 26/07/08_


	8. Of Risks and Repercussions

Chapter 7

Of Risks and Repercussions

* * *

_**January 26**__**th**__** 1998**_

Raito surreptitiously turned his head and took a brief glance of his guard. Seeing him still mesmerized by the wrestling match airing on television, he quickly refocused his attention on the computer screen. He was safe to work.

_To make those bastards pay…_

He immediately minimized his current window – which was displaying a stupid game of _tetris _– and opened another. The long sequence of codes he had figured out two days back was hastily entered and the screen changed again.

He was in.

It was time to start rifling through their database and pillaging it for incriminating information. Raito smirked.

It was such a shame – _for them of course_ – that they continuously underestimated him. Had they known his true capabilities, they never would have allowed the preteen near a computer – good behaviour or not. He may act meek and obedient, but he was far from it.

He was angry yes, outraged by his situation and those responsible for it, even slightly humiliated. But scared?

No. The brunet refused to be afraid. He refused to let his baser instincts overtake him – as they had when the yakuza had first caught him. He would not waste his energy on such useless emotions as fear when he could act – when they have left him the opportunity to act, to make them _pay_. Justice would never let criminals get away with their transgressions.

And if he could help justice out in dispensing punishment, who was he to deny such a calling?

Through a strange twist of fate, recent events following his abduction have lined up in his favour. After all, there was no reason for his kidnappers to leave him with so much freedom.

In fact, Raito had been certain they would have locked him away in a tiny cell, fed little to nothing. He would have been half-forgotten, only a bother they must reluctantly keep alive, until the negotiations started. But it hadn't been the case. He had a room with an actual bed. He was regularly provided with decent meals. He may constantly be guarded but he was in no way mistreated.

Raito simply could not puzzle out their reasoning. The only rationale he could come up with made no sense: why ever would the yakuza want to maintain an image of respectability? There was no need to _for they were nothing but brutish pigs_. Nothing they did would ever change the fact.

And it especially didn't make any sense that his captors would be so thoughtful towards him. They even tried to alleviate his boredom by allowing him to play games on their computer. They may have cut off his access to the Internet but it still did not explain their indulgence and carelessness in his regard.

It baffled him but in the end, it did not matter. They had underestimated him and it was his duty to exploit their negligence to his fullest capacity. He would help bring them to justice. As soon as he had managed to hack into their main processors, the preteen had immediately scanned it for incriminating evidence and had memorised every single detail he could dig out. He needed all the information he could find in order to convict them, or at least halt their activities, when he was finally freed.

Because that was all it came down to, his freedom and the devastation he would bring upon the crime organisation with it.

There was no reason for Raito to doubt his imminent release. Despite knowing how reluctant the NPA would be to accede to the syndicate's demands, leaving their chief's son in the yakuza's hands was even worse for their image. No, they would mount a rescue operation and the only thing he feared – no not feared, worried about – was the yakuza's retaliation.

After all, there was always the possibility he would inadvertently be harmed in the shootout or be used as a human shield. And while that may be the case, he knew he could not let his _apprehension_ cloud his judgement when the time came. He trusted the police's efficiency in this matter at the very least. They would not allow him to be harmed. Only his kidnappers – who rightly deserved their fate.

His abductors should be aware of this by now. They should be terrified, trembling in fear and overwhelmed by dread at their impending doom. And yet, the yakuza's lax attitude in his regards seemed to hint on the contrary.

They made it seem as though the judicial system and the law enforcement were below them.

Raito scoffed. It was their loss; their ignorance.

Suddenly, a mischievous gleam entered his eyes as a plan slowly took shape. He had stumbled upon the building's security system – which, like any other, was connected to the _fire alarm_.

His hands stilled over the keyboard as he thought about his options. He could send it off and he would probably manage to escape through the panic. _But then…_ he gave the computer a sorrowful glance, _I can't simply leave without all this information…_

There was so much – _so much_ – and it would be a shame to leave it all.

He gave his guard yet another quick glimpse. He was still safe; the man was still absorbed by the televised violence. Raito bit his lips. He knew he would be rescued in a few days. Unless his father acted alone – which probably wasn't the case – the NPA could be here any moment now. There was no reason for him to risk it himself. But then –

A little stack of diskettes on one side of the table caught his eyes.

_Yes, they would do. I can simply copy as much information as possible and then, I'd even have evidence to back up my claims_

He wouldn't have been able to smuggle them away during a rescue attempt but if he was to run away with them now –

A happy grin overtook his face and he gleefully proceeded with his plan.

* * *

Raito kicked, bit and screamed in his captor's grip. He was acting like a child, like a little hooligan but he did not care.

He had been so close, _so close…_

He shouldn't have been so euphoric when running away. He should have watched where he was going.

He bit the hand tightly gripping his shoulder.

"Ouch! Why you little brat!" Cried the bodyguard. He cuffed him on the side of his head. Raito glared.

"Kohashi," absentmindedly reprimanded the oyabun. He did not glance up from his computer. They were in the man's office.

He should have watched where he was going.

But he hadn't. He had run into the oyabun, the _oyabun_. And in the collision, the diskettes he had dissimulated in his sweater had fallen to the ground. Clattered. Incriminating him as much as they would have incriminated the yakuza – had his plan only worked.

The two of them had stared at each other for a moment and then, without sparing his lost prize another glance, Raito had run away. But it had been too late. Far too late.

He had lost his advantage.

This man, this Kohashi, had quickly caught up to him and now, here they were. Here he was, awaiting judgement.

He struggled some more, wiggled a bit and then, with as much anger as he could pull, he stomped on the man's foot, tried to crush his toes. The brute swore but did not let go. His hold tightened.

The oyabun did not bother to intervene this time.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, the yakuza leader looked away from the monitor and got up. Raito felt his stomach twist into knots. There was _something_ gleeful, sinister about that expression.

"So… I finally found our little snitch." The man said softly, and yet so loudly. Raito strained some more but could not budge. "I guess you were the one who leaked out our operations to the police. After all, if you were so daring as to hack into our network and steal our data, I do not doubt you would have somehow gained access to your father's computer and 'tried to help'."

He approached. One step, another.

He stopped. Only a few feet away.

"Kohashi, I think a change of plan is in order. Tell his father that that we are keeping this little jewel."

_Wait what? My father had not contacted the others? He actually tried to –_

And then, it hit him. The police was not coming. And the yakuza would not let him go.

Raito jerked some more in his captor's grip. His struggles intensified but they all amounted to nothing. He could not help the slight tears building up in his eyes. No, no –

A soft hand tilted his chin up and his gaze met the oyabun's. He put as much hatred and loathing as he could into that one glare.

The man simply chuckled and released his cheek. He gave him another assessing look and smiled.

"Feisty. I like you. I think I am going to keep you."

What twisted up in his guts was pure unadulterated fear.

* * *

_For my part I consider that it is better to be adventurous than cautious, because fortune is a woman, and if you wish to keep her under it is necessary to beat and ill-use her; and it is seen that she allows herself to be mastered by the adventurous rather than by those who go to work more coldly. She is, therefore, always, woman-like, a lover of young men, because they are less cautious, more violent, and with more audacity command her._

* * *

_**December 27**__**th**__** 2003**_

At exactly twelve o'clock that night, Raito turned off his computer. He leaned back on his chair and tiredly closed his eyes. He did not make any moves in preparation to going to bed however. He simply sat there and thought and regretted.

"Not working Raito?"

The teenager shook his head and stared down at an empty corner of his desk – where the Death Note had so often lain these past few evenings. "It wouldn't feel right to… work when _they_ are dying out there." It would be disrespectful to say the least.

Why should he so easily escape his crimes by sleeping the night away when others were being murdered outside of these four walls? He would find no rest tonight. Not today.

Not when he had killed and sacrificed so many for his own purposes.

Every ten minutes, another would expire. Every ten minutes, another would be judged and deemed guilty, corrupted. Every ten minutes, another's blood would be added to his conscience.

And meanwhile, the greatest murderer of them all still roamed free. Untouched by the law, free to do as he pleased – his only cage being the one the yakuza had erected for him. And that of his own twisted conscience.

Ever since the arrival of the Death Note, his nightly ritual and condemnation no longer felt as effective. His crimes and victims were increasing exponentially and still, there was no redemption in sight. However, despite this knowledge, he would not, could not desist.

Even though he knew it was slowly destroying him, he kept pushing and prodding on in his delusional quest because it was all he knew, all he had left. And yet, and yet… deep down inside him, the child he had been still cried out, desperately pleading for someone to save him. To stop him.

But such a feat was impossible and it was useless to ponder on hopeless fantasies.

"What about the forum? Don't you want to talk to Anti-Kira again? It's been a while…"

_And I never had the time to indulge in yet another lengthy discussion with him._

Raito shook his head again. No, he would not be able to face Anti-Kira, with his ongoing murders so fresh in his mind. Neither could he bear seeing all the worshipping praises thrown out by his 'followers'.

The forum was his tainted escape from reality. In it, he was an anonymous voice like any other and he relished in the feeling. He could discuss and reveal his deepest misgivings and none would be the wiser.

No one knew he was actually Kira, their fallen undeserving 'God' or even Raito, a yakuza member. A man who deserved to be judged and condemned.

And sometimes, after an intense discussion with Anti-Kira, he could not help but wonder what the man would think should he ever learn his true identity. He doubted he would understand. None would.

All that would be accomplished was the utter lost of this strange friendship. He would lose this annoying opponent, this duelling partner who awoke an entirely new side to him. One, perhaps, from another time.

It was why he could not face Anti-Kira tonight. This time, Kira's actions had been too grand, too devastating in their impact. He had completely undermined his own rules and the legal system. There was no way he could simply sit down and debate and analyse the murderer's massive killings. Tonight, he had no right to assume another's skin.

As he raised his head and looked out the window, he saw that it had started to snow. One flake after another - each so unique and pure – fell on the ground and melted.

Raito sighed.

He could not allow himself this escape from reality because tonight, he was Kira. Only Kira, not Kirin.

* * *

Like a prowling tiger, L paced back and forth in his hotel room. 2:49 AM. One more minute.

2:50 AM.

Another had died. His fingers tightened around each other.

2:53 AM.

His laptop finally rang. He immediately turned around and crouched down next to it.

"The victim, Watari?" He bit out harshly, perhaps a bit too harshly.

"Jake Smith from the Tasmania Police." The English gentleman answered without hesitation. "Aged 37. For hefty bribes, he and his partner would allow some drug dealers and lesser criminals to roam free."

"As usual, ask his coworkers to verify the validity of his illicit activities." L ordered. "And have them arrest his partner too while they check up on his background." He added as an afterthought. The monitor turned blank again and he simply glared angrily at the white screen.

_Damn you Kira_. After an entire month of routine killings, he had to come up with this. _How dare you? What are you trying to prove?_

_That you are above the law?_

Now that he had moved onto 'bigger preys', it certainly seemed that way. No longer content with simply going after criminals, he had to attack the law enforcement, make fools out of it – destroy its reputation. After all, when the public finally finds out about Kira's bold move, outrage would take over the streets – both against the police and their executioner. The corruption revealed in their 'suicide notes' would leave quite an impression on the masses. The self-proclaimed God had planned this mass execution all too well and L was not looking forward to cleaning up after him.

Already he had to deal with the fallout Kira's killings had had on the various police departments worldwide. He had instructed them individually in the beginning, as every death might reveal an important clue on Kira's whereabouts. After seventy minutes, he had concluded that his efforts were futile. The murders were too random and based on only one fact – the officers' well-concealed crimes.

Intensive background studies on these victims would reveal nothing; just like the ones on Kira's previous preys hadn't. A single certainty rang in L's mind: Kira's connection to either the police or the government.

How else could an ordinary individual obtain such accurate information regarding his quarries' illegal activities?

L glanced at the clock. "3 o'clock."

Any minute now…

A mere twenty-three seconds later, Watari's voice came through again. This time, there was a note of panic in his usually calm tone. L tensed up. Someone important must have died. It was three o'clock now. It seemed Kira still attached importance to certain times. The first death at midnight had been the head of the CIA.

The panic resulting from his untimely demise still had not abated. L gnawed on his thumb.

"Steve Mason, the director of the FBI was killed." The chewing turned into a bite. There was a slight coppery taste on his tongue. "His long letter is quite similar to the deceased McAvery's. I'll send you a copy now."

It was in fact practically identical in its overall content. Both US agencies had sent their people on various morally questionable missions around the globe in order to maintain their homeland's supremacy. They have managed to destabilize other nations' government, stirred rebellions and even helped install dictatorships. At home, they had suppressed some of their activists' controversial agenda by suppressing the activists themselves.

It was a known – though not discussed – fact; one the White House had quite a hand in. And now, two of its leaders were paying for the price. L could not help but wonder what Kira thought he would be able to accomplish through this. It was not as though an entire structure would change with the deaths of their two prominent heads.

In addition, though Kira might be trying to raise the average American citizens' awareness, L personally felt such a revelation would only do more harm than good. Paranoia would grip the populace and conspiracy theories would spring up in the streets. Their reaction would be excessive, irrational, especially since such assignments – though grand in their impact – made up only a small proportion of the two organisations' operations.

As he turned away from the computer to think, the detective's gaze suddenly caught the flash of white stacked a few feet away from him. His eyes narrowed in thought. It was the list of both the people working on the Kira case and those in the Organised Crime Department.

What if Kira had somehow found out the NPA was being tracked by FBI agents? What if –

"L. The FBI wants to speak to you."

He frowned. Watari should have known better than to disturb him with this type of request. "You know very well that my answer for them is the same as the one I gave to the previous few organisations. They do not need my help to investigate their own people and if it is reassurances they want, I cannot provide them with that. I do not know where Kira will strike next."

_Only the times of the murders, since they are spaced at ten minute intervals._

Of course, for once Kira had not been working with the Greenwich Time Zone. No, he had chosen to commence his killings at midnight, local time. L was certain that this was yet another sign of provocation. The killer was mocking him, finally retaliating to the discovery L had made almost a month back.

He gritted his teeth in anger. Perhaps he was reading too much into it but Kira seemed far too meticulous for this sudden change to be a mere coincidence.

"L. The vice-director says it's important."

"You do not need to explain Watari. I already knew there would be a 97 chance that they would withdraw their agents from Japan with recent events as they are." He bit out, bitter. "Tell them that though regrettable, I understand." _No. I do not understand. Kira isn't an issue you can simply run away from. This is about _justice_. Do not think that, by washing your hands of the matter, you will actually be spared._

_He didn't kill Mason because you went after him. He killed him because of his immoral decisions_.

"L, listen," Watari told him in his calm paternalistic tone. "He says they found out how Kira managed to access all those agents and officers' records."

The detective's eyes widened. "Patch me in."

After only a few moments, a deep male voice was heard.

"L, this is Daniel Martins. As you know, my agents are looking over the director's recent activities and we found some inconsistencies. Around a week ago, he had started going over the old files we have on various agencies around the world and pulled out their people's records. He might have somehow been forced to leak out their crimes to Kira."

* * *

"Fuck! Are you telling me that after two years of bowing down to our whims, Hibi finally regrew his balls?"

A slight pause in the screaming.

"Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! No. I refuse to back away." From the other side of the door, they could hear the loud stomping stop for a few seconds before resuming. With it, the yelling returned. "I don't care if it is our group at stakes here; this is my honour I'm talking about. I'm not going to retreat like a damn coward."

"Fine, I'll just send back –" Some shuffling. "You better not mess it up."

Hearing those last few words, Raito took it as a signal to announce his presence and knocked on the door. A frustrated Manabe something – the younger one – opened it. Ryuk grinned crookedly to a side as he noticed the dishevelled hair.

Hehe. Not just a simple lost of composure eh?

The human had probably passed his hand through his short mop a few times in his frustration. But that little detail was only a small piece of what amused the death god. After all, though invisible, he knew perfectly well what had caused this sudden bout of tantrum. It was one of the perks of hanging out with a brilliant little manipulator.

From the screams, the pacing and even the tousled appearance, it became quite evident that his human's plan had worked as planned. Ryuk grinned. It'd be great to see how well the rest of it proceeds.

"Look. Let's get this over it." The elder Japanese said between gritted teeth. He went to his liquor cabinet and poured himself a shot. He drank it all in one quick gulp. "Are you guys gonna swear the oath or not?" He growled out, looking at Raito and then at his constant shadow, Mako-something.

"Manabe-san," Raito replied carefully, "as you probably know, our oyabun has been injured a few days ago –"

"I don't care about Takamiya's state of health!"

The youth's eyes narrowed and his expression changed. "You and I know better than that, Manabe-_san_." His voice was low, almost as soft as a smooth caress but the sharp edge of the threat was unmistakable. "After all, were you not the one who ordered his death?"

"What proof do you have to fling such accusations?" The older mortal was spitting venom in turn. His bulkier frame seemed to loom over the younger yakuza.

Raito, of course, was unconcerned. After all, if he was not afraid of a shinigami, why would he be intimidated by a mere human? He simply took out two pins from his pocket and threw them on the coffee table. Their trajectory was avidly followed by their four – three visible ones and Ryuk himself – observers as they clattered on its polished surface and proudly displayed their insignia.

It bore Tsuchinoko's mon, a snake coiled up on itself in order to form three pointed loops.

"A week ago, two men tried to kill our oyabun. They failed of course, but not before seriously injuring him. His attackers however did not fare any better," Raito tilted his head to a side and smirked.

The light that fell on his face and illuminated his youthful features belied his scheming mind.

_Such a flair for dramatics, eh Raito?_

"They died from their wounds a few blocks away from the hospital. We found your organisation's crest on them." The young mortal's expression closed off again and turned awfully serious. "Do not think we would let such an insult go so easily. We demand retribution."

Ryuk watched in glee as Manabe's hackles were raised. His entire face crunched up into a snarl. Cackling cheerfully, he wondered which path the man would choose.

"_Neh neh, Raito? Now that you're finally using the Death Note, what are you machinating?" He pointed towards the crumpled sheets of paper – all filled with unreadable scribbles (Raito was apparently paranoid enough to invent his own codes when sketching his plans out before burning them) – in the trash bin._

_The boy did not look up from his work. "Now that you finished making fun of me, you finally want to know what I'm plotting?" He answered softly. "Aren't you content with me simply using the Death Note?"_

_Ryuk cackled, amused by the human's thinly-veiled annoyance. "Ah… but that was a given, Raito. I knew you would succumb sooner or later, especially with the life you lead. Eh heh! And I was right, wasn't I?"_

"_Then if you're so brilliant, you can probably already deduce my plans." Raito huffed. "And wouldn't it be so much more 'amusing' if you had to guess what they are yourself?"_

_Ryuk thought over it for a moment. Yes, it would be entertaining to watch the proceedings as they came along but it would be so much better if he actually knew how well they matched Raito's plans. Witnessing these little humans work themselves right into the youth's hands would simply be enhanced by foreknowledge. And then, there was also the little matter of his curiosity…_

"_How about an exchange then? I'll tell you another of the Death Note's powers and you reveal your plans to me."_

_The youth turned away from his desk and looked directly at the death god's grotesque grimace. He chuckled. "So you have kept some information from me? I should have expected it." His arms and legs were crossed but there was no tension in his lean frame. He was far more amused than annoyed. "Very well then, please share away."_

_Without any further prompting, Ryuk divulged the first fundamental difference between the shinigami and humans: the way they used the Death Note. Raito listened to his tale rapturously and the death god could not help but remark again on how stale and apathetic the shinigami realm has become._

"_Ryuk, you are being silly," the mortal said with a soft smile._

"_What?"_

"_You may look to our world to assuage your boredom, but the core of the matter would not change. Ryuk, a shinigami like you comes down to Earth every hundred, no every thousand years, and outwardly, the world seems to have literally transformed in that space of time. However," his tone turned sardonic, as he glanced down at a spot on the ground. His bangs covered his eyes, "humanity itself did not change."_

"_Eh? But isn't that what you're trying to do with the Death Note – install a change?"_

"_Trying, but I hold little hope of succeeding. I guess you can see it as a test." He elegantly shrugged his shoulders. The apparent nonchalant gesture and tone did not mask the importance Raito held to this 'test'. Ryuk, after all, had seen him at his most passionate and especially at his most conflicted. "A test to the people's morals, to the law enforcement, to the judicial system. Stir them up a bit and see how they react. But you know Ryuk," he refocused on his companion, "this isn't really what you're doing. _You_ are only seeking to escape your boredom."_

_Raito grinned. Ryuk wasn't certain if he was mocking him. "But this temporary reprieve will only seem as sweet torture in retrospect, when you return to your unchanged rotting home."_

_After a short bout of silence, Ryuk finally managed to respond. "Raito, you're such a pessimist."_

_That ironic little smirk was once again plastered on his face._

"_Anyway, your lifespan wouldn't be extended by the people whose name you write down in the Death Note. That is the first key difference I was talking about."_

"_Good. Who wants to live forever anyway?" Raito asked wrily._

"_Oh… Then you'd probably find the next difference even more interesting. It's not about extending, but shortening a lifespan."_

_As he told the youth about the shinigami eyes, he watched him frown in thought. _Would he be tempted by this power?_ Ryuk idly wondered._

"_So, what about it?"_

"_Half of my life for the eyes of a shinigami…" He repeated Ryuk's revelations slowly, carefully enunciating each thought. "I'd know a person's name just by seeing their face. That could be very useful." _

Ah, so he would –

"_Ryuk. This deal is out of the question."_

_The otherworldly creature startled in surprise. Inside of him, a part cackled with glee – and a certain degree of fondness. _That manipulative little human…

"_Why ever would I want to shorten my lifespan when I have so much to accomplish in what little remains of my life? With the existence I lead, I can die any day now. I do not doubt that." Laughter bubbled inside the shinigami at the speaker's conviction._ Oh, if only he knew how many long years he had left…_ "There is no way I would shorten it even more for such a useless power. After all, I can find the name of the next criminal to kill with only minimum research," he said shooting a short glance at the computer._

Ah… the program_. Ryuk gave the piece of technology a considering look._

"_No, my death will be at the hands of justice, preferably by lethal injection."_

_Unknown to the human – he had turned his head away –, the shinigami was grinning. _If that's what _you_ think Raito. _He kept repeating the same mantra and in the end, the death god could not help but wonder how much of it was the yakuza trying to convince himself of his fate – and whether his self-preservation instincts would actually win out despite his guilt._

_Finally, Raito lifted his head to a side and looked at the creature's monstrous form appraisingly. His eyes lingered a bit longer on the Death Note hanging upon Ryuk's waist. "That is unless you want to kill me Ryuk."_

"Do you really think you are in a position to make such demands?" Manabe growled out.

Raito smirked. "Do you really think _you _are in a position to back up your threat? I overheard that the police department in Kobe is moving up against your various offices. Can you really afford to divide your attention up like this? You know very well we are in the rights this time." He threatened.

Manabe's entire frame tensed up. "Impudent brat!"

"_Eh heh. Maybe I will, when you cease to entertain me." Which most probably wouldn't happen anytime soon. The human who picked up his Death Note was such a walking contradiction that he doubted he would ever bore the shinigami. With the life he led added to the mix – a life of danger, manipulations and death –, he did not think he would rid himself of 'Yagami' Raito anytime soon._

"_But now that I've kept my part of the bargain, you should keep yours!" Folding himself up upon himself, he sat on the bed, eagerly awaiting the grand revelation of Raito's masterplan._

"_There isn't much to it. As you know, Tsuchinoko Alliance is far more numerous and powerful than our group. They even managed to blackmail the chief of Hyogo's Prefectural Police into compliance. In a normal situation, we wouldn't have stood a chance, especially as the other Kanto syndicates are very reluctant to get involved in another war with Kobe."_

"_Then what are you planning on doing?"_

"_To win," Raito leaned back on his high back chair and started lecturing. His fingers pointed up to the air as he listed out his arguments, "we need two things. We have to weaken their base and take away their excuse for attacking us. This way, a full blown war would be averted and be reduced into mere skirmishes. This, we have a chance of winning. If it goes on long enough, we may even destroy a portion of Manabe-san's powerbase as doubts would foster within his lieutenants' minds._

"_Their excuse for waging war on us is Jun killing Viper's second-in-command. We already apologized for our subordinate acting out of line and punished," Ryuk guffawed, "him for it. That was not enough to satisfy Tsuchinoko however. Thus, I need to create a similar situation, but where _they _are the ones who provoked us."_

_He swivelled his chair around and opened a new screen on his monitor. After a few minutes, he came up with a picture of two stern looking men. They had multiple scars on their faces, and probably even more hidden under their clothes. _Shibata Gorou_ and _Asano Itsuki_, Ryuk read over their respective heads._

"_Shibata and Asano are two of Manabe-san's favoured hitmen. With the power of the Death Note, I will order them to injure – not kill – 'Black Dragon's oyabun'. It is not an improbable situation, knowing their loyalty and Manabe-san's ambition. In addition, since Takamiya-sama's name is not mentioned, he should be fine, right Ryuk?"_

_The shinigami chuckled. _Leave it to Raito to avoid accidentally killing another…

"_Moreover, vaguely mentioning a person by his occupation still identifies him enough for the victim to recognize him and interact with him, as proven by Jun's death." He sighed. "They will have to die though. Probably from blood loss. It is quite a shame," his smile twisted to one side, "not only will their mission failed but they will be mortally injured by Takamiya-sama's bodyguards. _

"_With this attempt on the Black Dragon's boss' life, our debt to Tsuchinoko will be paid. They attempted to assassinate our oyabun; we only accidentally killed a measly subgroup's second-in-command._

"_Tsuchinoko will no longer have any valid excuse to declare war on us."_

_That his plan would also keep his adoptive father out of his way and away from him was left unsaid by both parties._

"_But that is not enough to stop a warmonger like Manabe-san, especially since he will see retreating as putting his honour at stakes. That is why I will have to manipulate the police against them."_

"_And how are you planning to do that?" Ryuk asked curiously. He highly doubted Raito would sacrifice an innocent officer's life for his grand scheme._

_Although he had seen him working on that program and looking through various police files lately…_

"_This is where my extensive planning comes in. As you know, our greatest weakness in Tokyo is Etsuko's threat. He will not tolerate a war. And then, as I have found out a few days back when working on their profiling database, the FBI has sent agents to Japan. I do not need the White House getting involved in our affairs again. It would be particularly troublesome if, under the US's urgings, the Diet once again installs stricter laws against organised crime. I do not want a repeat of the early nineties._

"_In addition, there is always the possibility that the vulnerability of our position will then leak out to the American Mafia which would only destabilize our alliance. I have examined and re-examined the situation and there is only one solution."_

"_And what is that?" Ryuk asked, eagerly awaiting the answer. He was actually squirming in his seat._

_Raito's eyes stared into his for a moment, shimmering with guilt and deep regret. He hastily looked away. "To make use of my persona as Kira."_

In the end, Manabe reluctantly agreed to retreat the majority of his troupes. However, from the nasty gleam in his eyes, it was evident the affair was not over. He did not promise to not attack. In fact, he had made no promises.

No, he would simply withdraw the majority of his forces to concentrate on the situation in Kobe. The men he would leave in Kanto would simply be preparing for his return – and spreading dissent in Black Dragon's territories.

Ryuk grinned, impressed by how well Raito had planned out the entire situation. With the beginning so accurately predicted, he was certain the finale would be just as entertaining.

"_Wow! So you're gonna kill all those police officers! Talk about something big – wonder how L would react? Hyuk. Hyuk!"_

"_Of course. I _am_ Kira. How am I supposed to cleanse the world if I cannot even eliminate the corruption in those who are supposed to uphold the law?" Raito bit out sarcastically. His show of derision did not hide the tear in his soul. Sometimes, Ryuk could not help but wonder when the human would just let go of the morals he clang onto so desperately and stop torturing himself. It would all be so much simpler that way._

"_It would be a show to the world. It would be – an unforgivable crime. A test of their reaction. And hidden within its depths, I would have eliminated Etsuko and Mason. It would leave the NPA and the FBI scrambling to clean up their image and take their focus away from us poor little yakuza._

"_And as for Kobe, a simple e-mail warning the chief of his fate should be enough. He may have had to comply with Tsuchinoko after they found a donor for his daughter's operation, but enough is enough. He would, after all, not want to take an untimely but permanent leave of absence from his family – as poor Etsuko will soon do."_

* * *

Teru meticulously cut out the article spanning over the front page of Asami Shimbun's evening edition. He then carefully placed it with all the ones he had collected over the past few weeks, in a proper black binder dedicated to Kira-sama's triumphs over evil.

Another one contained all his plans in his quest to assist God. In the intervening weeks since Kirin's appearance in the forum, he had not forgotten the promise he had made. It was useless for him to stay a passive supporter and expect God to acknowledge him. No, he had to be active; he had to devote his entire existence, all his energy to God's cause. To do so, he had started observing his peers and looking for others who were just like him.

Men and women who were absolutely loyal to God's cause and had the smarts to back them up.

Although they were not openly displaying their support like the fanatics did, he easily managed to recognize the signs and had approached them. Already, a small party committed to God's mission had started to form in Kyoto University. In it, Teru had managed to assemble some of the most brilliant and radical minds of his generation. They all came from different backgrounds and were all headed towards different fields. Together, Teru knew they would be able to revolutionize Japan. They were the future leaders of the country and with some careful planning, they would be able to prepare it for Kira's ascendancy.

Their God may never show himself in public but his birthplace would forever be faithful and dutiful towards him. It was their goal to create a Japan worthy of Kira-sama.

Overall, Teru was quite proud of his accomplishment. He would forever be thankful to Kirin for his advice – despite his blasphemous attitude. It was, after all, his _gift_ to God.

And when he transferred to Tokyo University in a few months, he knew he would be leaving his Kyoto faction in good hands. Once he arrived to the capital, he will again start recruiting. God's home deserves nothing but the most virtuous to serve him.

Perhaps then… perhaps then God would acknowledge him as his most faithful. It was Teru's greatest dream.

But already, the successive deletions God had done were reward enough. God had deviated from his normal pattern to show the world how rotten their law enforcement was. If they could not trust their police officers, then who could they trust?

It was no wonder criminals abounded in the world.

God had shown them that and now, the governments – who consisted of nothing but corrupted bigots – had no choice but to act and repent. They would be forced to change and govern justly, hold the power until it was time for Teru's people to take over for them, for Kira-sama.

It was a grand revolution that Kira had started and Teru was going to make sure to bring it to completion.

Carefully placing the binders back in their favoured position on his bookshelf, he turned back towards his desk and sat in front of his computer. Even though he held nothing but disdain for most of the Kira worshippers who populated the forum, he would occasionally bump into a few smart souls. He was already thinking of recruiting a handful of them. After all, he would need to broaden his operation so that they encompassed the entire country.

And then, there was Kirin and Anti-Kira. Teru may disdain them and pity them for their aberrant behaviour, but he was interested in their discussions. They raised many noteworthy points, ones he would be sure to take into consideration when his party came out of the dark. God's most loyal must not be flawed in any way.

God was perfect and so must his soldiers become.

And perhaps, with some luck, Kirin – the more reasonable of the two who had also rejected that sinner L – would turn. He would be a great boost to their ranks.

Scrolling down the site, Teru took little notice of the lively discussions taking place over the various threads. The members were buzzing with excitement at God's latest move, rejoicing at the triumph of true 'justice'.

The law student snorted. He did not need them to demonstrate his gratitude to God. He had prayed for his continued well-being with his people a few hours back. No, he was looking for the troublesome duo.

And strangely enough, none were present on the day of Kira's greatest triumph.

Teru smirked. Perhaps they have learnt their lesson…

* * *

_**December 30**__**th**__** 2003**_

Ryozo stretched himself out lazily under the warm Korean sun. The last few weeks had been wonderful. After pulling Katsuo out of his silly flunk – the man had been brooding over Raito one-upping him for a solid week –, he had managed to incite the idiot into causing mayhem over Kabukicho. After all, he may as well try to expand his territory by taking over Viper's. It had been the 'perfect' opportunity with the oyabun out of town.

When he had let out of the possibility of Raito taking the brunt of the damage, it had clinched his friend's decision.

And now, a nice little war was brewing over in Tokyo.

They, of course, had to escape to Korea but it was of little importance. The Black Dragon owned many bases in the country and it didn't take long for Katsuo to appropriate one of the buildings for himself: he was the _oyabun's son_. Special privileges were always so fun to exploit. From the loud parties and orgies the yakuza heir held nightly, he too enjoyed his 'birthright'.

Still, their fun would have been long disrupted had it not been for his foresight. Ryozo had been certain that, despite their blood relation, Takamiya would expel his son for the threat he had incurred on their organisation. It was only such a shame for the oyabun that Katsuo had Ryozo helping him. Having predicted such a reaction from the leader's part, Ryozo had managed to intercept all the hamon-jo before they arrived to destination – well, those who were addressed to the Asian branches outside of Japan.

Being the unacknowledged unknown bastard son of a renowned politician had its own advantages. He had the necessary connections to pull out when needed, but none of the responsibilities that came with it.

And all the time in the world to satisfy his sadistic cravings. His father was quite lucky that no one knew of their connection or his illegitimate child's yakuza friends.

But now, as he glanced down at the newspaper lying beside him on the wooden porch, he knew it was time to leave Katsuo and return to Japan. Kira seemed to be having the time of his life and a war was brewing up – despite the Black Dragon's brave efforts.

With a smirk, he threw his cigarette on the gravel and walked up the stairs. He needed to pack his bags.

Japan was where all the fun was.

* * *

"Neh Raito? What are you having so much trouble with?"

He threw a wry grin at the shinigami before resuming his arduous task. He was trying to write a letter. It was quite sad really. For the first time in years, his missive would probably reach his father's eyes without being read and examined by third parties… and yet, he had nothing to say.

For years, he had to gradually cut his ties with his biological father through these letters. He had calculatingly become colder, more hurtful and dismissive to him in order to gain Takamiya-sama's trust. It was the perfect means to assure the oyabun of his loyalty. However, despite his precautions, he had not managed to keep his true self from being warped by the masquerade. It had gone to the point that he at times did not even know where his true feelings ended and his mask began.

Raito ran his hand through his soft locks in exasperation.

This would be the first time he did not need to keep up the appearance of having been perfectly brainwashed. Takamiya-sama was out of commission in Hokkaido and there was no one to stop him.

There was no one… but his own deception.

Raito let escape a bitter, painful chuckle.

Such fantasies were useless now. A sudden change of attitude would solve nothing. It would only alarm his father. In addition, if it were to leak out –

Raito shuddered.

No, despite his wish for reconciliation, there was nothing left between them. Not even the painful understanding he had gained two years ago on his father's impossible decision could bridge the gap between them.

This letter would be no different than the others: just as cold, just as curt, just as professional.

He was not his father's son. He was a yakuza writing to a police officer.

_At least, he doesn't know you are Kira_, his mind traitorously whispered.

* * *

_**December 31**__**st**__** 2003**_

Soichiro had spent the entire day in a daze. This morning, there had been a letter waiting for him on his desk. A letter from Raito; a letter so very similar to his previous one. It urged him to do his duty and catch Kira.

Though he had told his men to take their family into consideration and think about resigning – as many, too afraid by the massive killings a few days ago, were pondering on doing – he himself knew his decision. He would never abandon this investigation. He would not abandon justice again.

Even though he was putting his life at risk, even though it may very well spell his death, he would follow this case to the bitter end. When Watari turned the computer to show them L's request, the decision had already been made and engraved in his mind.

For Raito, for Justice, he would help L arrest and try Kira for his crimes.

* * *

"I am L."

As the police officers started to introduce themselves in turn, L stared blankly at their idiocy for a moment… and proceeded to teach them a lesson on caution.

It would do them good to be more careful in the future and to heed his warnings. After all, L was the _best _detective in the world and had achieved that by _remaining_ in the shadows. Still, the young man – Matsuda – seemed determined to be annoying, already questioning his instructions.

He inwardly sighed. It was to be expected when dealing with others. It was exhausting and tedious. It was why L constantly refrained from such interactions in the past. He climbed onto his seat and poured himself a cup of caffeine, making sure to mix it with a decent amount of sugar.

Sweets and coffee were needed if he were to maintain his faculties in their presence. They were exasperating that way.

Matsuda suddenly spoke up again. "I just had an idea. If Kira needs the names and faces of his victim to be able to kill them, all we have to do is stop all the news channels from broadcasting information about criminals."

L frowned. "Useless. Kira does not rely on the media to gain information on them. He somehow has access to police records worldwide" he paused for a moment before correcting himself, "or at least the Japanese ones."

"Huh?"

"What do you mean?"

"On the thirteenth of December," he swirled his teaspoon around his beverage a few times, producing a slight 'cling, cling' sound, "he deviated from his normal pattern and killed Ushio Aoi. Usually, Kira only deals with current threats and he shouldn't have known the yakuza hitman would have been released in three days."

"Does that mean –"

"Yes, the Police Headquarters has somehow been compromised. It is why I could not trust any of you until now."

"Oh."

L rubbed his jaw in thought for a few moments. His toes rubbed against each other in agitation. He felt like sprawling down on the ground. "Nevertheless, I think the media can still be of use to us. As luck would have it, although they have withdrawn their outright backing, many countries including the United States have agreed to provide any scientific and intelligence support they can for this case. So what if we do this…

"Announce something like 'The United States Government is furious about the murder of the Heads of the CIA and the FBI. Kira has also enraged the leaders around the world. The United Nations has sent 1500 investigators to Japan to assist in the capture of Kira.'

"With that, Kira's opponent would no longer be just us. He will consider anyone he sees on the street as a potential enemy. This will cause plenty of mental stress and discomfort."

The task force stared at him in amazement. He did not see why. His suggestion had one major flaw after all.

"A… awesome." Ukita managed to utter out in awe.

"The seven-men team suddenly becomes 1500 people and most of those don't even exist."

"Ryuuzaki, I will bring this up to my superiors immediately."

"I wonder what Kira will do to counter this."

"Even if he wants to retaliate…"

L decided to cut in before they started to get too pumped up. "This plan would not work however if my other theory is correct."

The five men stared at him in shock as L calmly dumped another two sugar cubes to his drink. "Though highly improbable, if Kira had somehow managed to gain access into databases other than the NPA's – more specifically the FBI's –, he would immediately know that the announcement was a ploy." He placed his cup back on the desk after taking one long sip. "But that does not mean we cannot try it out.

"And now, let me share a few personal insights on the case. Firstly, although I believe Kira acts alone, as shown by earlier reports on the case, he might have gained a few unwilling allies – or maybe ones who are unaware of their involvement – along the way."

"Why do you think that? What are you basing this off of?"

"Hold on, Aizawa," the chief reprimanded gently. "Let Ryuuzaki finish first. Save the questions for later."

"Ah… okay." He reluctantly backed off.

"Kira needs to know the face and name of his victim and he can probably control the time of death. What was only recently discovered is that he can influence the actions of his victim to a certain extent."

"Of course! The death notes!"

L narrowed his eyes at the second interruption but did not comment on it. "Yes, the victims' letters. But Kira can also control his victim's actions further back than a few minutes or hours before their demise. He somehow manipulated the director of the FBI into sending him a copy of the profiles of various corrupted officers he had collected over the years."

From the men's shell-shocked and slightly outraged expressions, he guessed they didn't know that the FBI also collected information on their contemporaries. Yagami was the first to recover. "Did you manage to track down where he sent it to?"

L shook his head. "No, he erased all traces of the account quickly enough. There were only sufficient clues left for us to confirm that Mason-san had indeed sent the file."

He took out the huge stack of documents placed at the side of his seat and waved it in front of them. "I have here the list of all the victims. The various agencies around the world that are connected to them are already investigating them for me." He dropped it back on the ground.

"There is one last thing. There is a great possibility that the FBI agents I sent to investigate the NPA was what had prompted Kira to move."

"WHAT!?" The incensed police officers all cried up at once.

L simply cocked his head to a side and stared at them blankly. "What did you expect me to do with our information being leaked out?" They immediately calmed down at his pointed question. "I want you to study the men these agents have been investigating and search for someone who may be Kira or may be connected to him."

"How would you describe Kira?" Asked Yagami after flipping over the pile of documents the detective had handed over to them.

After a long contemplating pause where L stared up at the ceiling and reviewed all he had learnt about the mass murderer, he finally answered. "Very meticulous and calculating. He is also very cautious. However, he is not afraid to make a statement – especially in the heat of anger."

_And like last time, if I find that one crucial clue, that one mistake… then I will win._

* * *

Raito sat at his desk, biting his lips with regret. He had examined the situation in details and he knew he had to act now. A few of the men Manabe-san had left in Kanto had started to get more restless, moving from acts of vandalism to outright displays of violence. Already, a few of the bars and mizu shobai under their protection have suffered from their harassment. Their men could only do so much to chase them away without causing them any permanent damage – and thus break the tenuous status quo.

Something must be done. Raito knew very well those intruders' 'taunts' would not stop there. Sooner or later, they would pull out their guns and civilians would be hurt.

He had to act before. He tapped his pen on his desk. Killing them outright would be far too suspicious. However, if he could exploit this situation and force the other Kanto syndicates to ally with him –

He gripped his pen tighter. No, he would not back away now. It was immoral of him to use others' lives as mere chess pieces but he could not give up now that the battle has commenced.

He could not afford to.

Quickly reviewing the various leaders he knew, he decided on one quickly enough. He was a senior executive of Night Hands and the ruthless uncompromising leader of one of their major subgroups. Decision made, Raito did not allow himself to back away from his decision and quickly wrote down the victim's name.

_Fukuda Tarou – death by blood loss_

_2004/01/01 Thursday Night, Kabukicho_

_Killed by one of Tsuchinoko's men_

As soon as his pen left the paper, he threw it away and buried his face in his hand. Somehow, as his conscience grew heavier, the strokes of his pen grew ever lighter.

Killing was an exercise he could easily grow used to.

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

Misora stared out of her window on the Narita Express in thought. After less than a week, she was back in Japan. Only this time, Raye was not accompanying her. He had to stay in the States. With the head of the FBI and a couple of lesser agents dead, all of them had been recalled to the base. A sweep through the entire department had been conducted. While the higher-ups were looking over the files and making sure none of their data has been lost or compromised, the field agents had to take up the slack. They – like any other law enforcers – were overworked.

She still remembered the night Raye had returned home, completely worn out, and collapsed on the couch.

"_Another busy day, right?" She asked, leaving for the kitchen to pour him some tea._

"_You have no idea. I still cannot believe how much trouble this Kira is causing us. Can't believe he somehow manipulated Mason into giving out the files. Argh." He banged his head on the back of his chair. "But you know what's weird? I followed Etsuko Kenta for four days straight and there was no sign of him having any link with the yakuza. Must have been pretty deeply hidden."_

_Misora paused in her steps. "So when you submitted your report, you reported nothing wrong?"_

"_Yeah… I –" He suddenly froze and turned towards her. His fatigue features were suddenly alert. "What are you getting at?"_

"_If you did not report any illegal activities from his part, how could Kira even know about them?"_

"_Shit." He rested his forehead in his head. "You're right. And Etsuko's only been the head of his department for around five years. We've never investigated him before." Taking a deep breath, he stared directly into her eyes. "Look, it's true you were an outstanding FBI agent but now, you're just my fiancée. You're not an agent anymore. Let me take care of this. No more Kira case, no more danger. That's what you promised me when we went to Japan and the same applies here."_

_Smiling apologetically, she sat down. "Alright Raye. Force of habit, I'm sorry."_

But the matter had not ended there. Raye had been unable to access the files as he didn't have a high enough clearance level. Meanwhile, the suspicion had only grown in her mind. Etsuko's death was quite revealing. It either was personal or it meant that Kira somehow had access to information the FBI didn't – which he probably would not want them to know about. Either way, it was a clue towards the killer's identity.

Despite Raye's protests, she knew she had to seek L out. After all, it was practically impossible for an ex-agent and a lowly field agent to contact him. And who was to say that the lines to the NPA would not be tapped?

No, Misora needed to go to Japan. This information was critical to the discovery of the mass murderer's identity. Furthermore, with all the investigators resigning from the case and deserting him, the famous detective needed all the help he could get. She also could not help but be thrilled with the opportunity of working with him again.

Thus, with minimal preparation, she boarded the first plane – the 11:45 flight – and left Raye in the States. She knew he was extremely unhappy with her decision but he could not forever coddle her. There was more at stakes here than their simple happiness or her safety. It was about justice and avenging Mason's untimely demise. He might have been slightly condescending towards her at times, but she could not deny that he had been a pretty decent boss – unlike his predecessor. And then, there was no way she could have investigated the matter stuck in LA. She needed to be in Japan, to be near L.

The detective surely had access to that denied information and he was brilliant. He would figure it out.

When the train finally stopped at Shinjuku station, Misora grabbed her duffle bag and headed out. It was around a quarter past one, in the middle of the night. She would head over to the NPA in the morning.

Now, all she needed was a room and bed. Maybe a capsule hotel.

She did not want to bother her parents at this hour – especially as she didn't know how long she would be staying in Japan.

"Hey babe!" A sleazy man leaning on a lamppost leered at her. "Wanna earn some extra cash?"

Another approached Misora from the left. He licked his lips. "Don't listen to him. He knows nothing. I can give you the time of your life."

The third man was only silently observing, but his appreciative gaze cannot be mistaken for anything but one of lust.

Misora narrowed her eyes. They were backing her into an alley. It would be hard, but she knew she could take them. She readied herself into a fighting stance and then –

"You three, what do you think you're doing?" Came a clear powerful voice.

They all blanched and as one, they scampered away.

Shocked, she looked away from her fleeing would-be 'attackers' and saw a mere teenager concernedly approaching her. He could not have been older than eighteen but there was such a commanding presence to him. Like any idol, he stood out in the dark streets of Tokyo. His rich brown hairs were neatly combed over a smooth, slightly angular face. There was no baby fat remaining in that lithe form.

As she looked into his worried eyes, she could see that he was far more than he appeared. There was a profundity hidden in their depths, one just asking to be explored.

Misora blinked back and assessed him again.

He was an extremely attractive youth, probably the son of a wealthy businessman or politician. His suit was clean-cut, tailored. She could not help but wonder about what he was doing here and how he had managed to have such influence on those thugs. Well, at least he was accompanied by a bodyguard – as the larger man shadowing him seemed to indicate.

"Are you alright?"

Misora nodded her head.

He smiled charmingly. "Good. I would rather you not be harmed by the likes of them." The brunet took a few steps and started walking away. Seeing that she wasn't following him, he turned back to face her. "Are you coming?" He asked. "You shouldn't be alone in these parts."

She stared at him suspiciously. "And you are –?"

"How rude of me." He gave a brief bow. "I'm Takamiya Raito." Introduction done, he refocused his attention on the road. "Now, let's find you some accommodations."

* * *

**A/N**: Hmmm… would this count as a cliffhanger?

Nothing much to say about this chapter except that my updates seem to have somehow become weekly. Very strange…

Anyway, lots of parallels here and much is revealed! (see how convoluted that masterplan was?) rubs hands together And all these characters are coming together! grin So, what next?

Okay, thank you guys again for all the encouragements. I love reading about your thoughts.

See you next time, whenever that next time may be!

_Edited 26/07/08_


	9. Of Allies and Stratagems

Chapter 8

Of Allies and Stratagems

* * *

_**July 13**__**th**__** 2001**_

Irritated, Reiji knocked on the hotel room's door. The receptionist who had accompanied him to this point glanced at him nervously. Her feet shuffled fretfully under her prim uniform and her hands wrung around one another. She obviously felt his bad mood.

Good. Perhaps the impertinent stranger who had had the nerve to call him here would feel it too. It wasn't like him to act so cross but this situation was one he could not stand. He abhorred impertinence above anything else and there was no other way to describe this situation. It reeked of insolence.

As his fist approached the wood to pound on it another time – barely ten seconds after the first set –, a soft click announced that the lock had been released. The door opened to reveal a tall burly man. Though he wore a suit, it did nothing to hide his true character. In fact, it emphasized it, subtly hinting at the built muscles that lay underneath the finely cut material. He gave the impression of a wolf that had barely been tamed. The large scar that ran over his right eyebrow and the one that could scarcely be glimpsed on his collarbone were yet another clue to his profession.

_Yakuza…_ The businessman steeled himself.

Probably a bodyguard, if he guessed correctly. He remembered glimpsing and dismissing a man of similar built and appearance a while back – perhaps during one of the shareholder meetings.

"Welcome Namikawa-san." His voice was rough and contrasted sharply with his display of politeness. _Yes, a well-trained attack dog._ Probably a very loyal one too, from the looks of it. As he watched the man's impeccable display of manners, he absentmindedly wondered if he could train his incompetent employees in the same manner. "Takamiya-san is waiting for you."

His eyes widened in shock. _Takamiya-san?!_

_That's impossible… it can't be._ There was simply no way that the oyabun of the syndicate with whom Yotsuba enjoyed 'friendly' enough relations would try to blackmail him. The crime lord would never so carelessly destroy the relationship he had established with the corporation.

Something was afoot.

The realisation didn't take more than a second and before the bodyguard even noticed it, he had regained his composure. It had been a near miss but he would not let this bluff affect him. Though newly transferred to Japan, Namikawa Reiji was no amateur.

Narrowing his eyes, he carefully took note of the surroundings. The luxurious hotel room was no surprise. After all, 'Takamiya-san' would not go for anything less, especially when engaging in power plays.

The Imperial Suite was just as majestic as its name implied. It immediately opened up to a vast living area where a few seats were artistically arranged over a coffee table. A shougi board throned upon its clear glass top. An inviting freestanding chaise on which rested an earthly patterned cushion lazed a few feet away, while two imperious armchairs and a loveseat stood guard around the table. Plants were placed near the windows, enjoying the sunlight softly coming through. The long maroon drapes have been drawn back to better exhibit the vast panorama.

All was arranged neatly. Everything was perfectly in place, and he highly doubted his host had actually slept here. Despite the ostentatious furniture and service, the room's appearance seemed vastly superficial. The rented quarters were void of life and personal effects.

And this mysterious 'Takamiya-san'.

During his first meticulous scrutiny, he had not managed to catch a glimpse of the man. It was possible that he was in the bedroom but no, the door was opened. Unless…

The bodyguard had stepped into the open dining area. As Reiji followed him, the figure that had been pressed against the window finally made itself known to him. Because the windows bulged out, he had missed the slight silhouette that had been hiding in the corner – and had been further concealed by the thick curtains.

Highly annoyed by the individual's rudeness, the executive was about to call him out on it when he did a double take. That person standing there was not a man, only a mere child, one who looked vaguely familiar.

What the heck –?

"Namikawa-san," the youth finally turned away from the _fascinating_ scenery of Roppongi's skyscrapers. "It is good that you have come."

Reiji wasn't certain about his next course of action. He had not expected this. A cocky punk or a sly middle-aged man, he could handle with ease. When he had heard the name 'Takamiya', his thoughts had strayed to an impostor making use of the Black Dragon's leader's name… or maybe the oyabun's reckless son he had heard so much about.

But not this. Not this… he sneered. That a kid would even try to blackmail him was simply ridiculous.

"Tell me what this is about. Now." Reiji ordered. There was no need to be so unbalanced. In fact, dealing with this brat would be for the best since it would be so much easier for him to intimidate the boy into submission. Let him learn that business was not a game. "You do not know who you are dealing with and I tire of this charade."

And then, the teenager actually had to gall to smirk at him. Reiji could barely contain his fury.

"Do not think me so simpleminded Namikawa-san that I would give in to mere threats." He walked over to the table where lay a compact briefcase and started rifling through the papers. "As I told you in my letter, I have found quite a number of oversights in Yotsuba's accounting books." With that, he placed a large brown folder on the desk. "You can look over it yourself. I assure you I made no mistakes."

Then, as though dismissing his guest, he returned to his favoured spot by the windows.

Yes, the letter he had received a few days ago had mentioned the irregularities in their books. Though Reiji had not believed it to be the case, he was knowledgeable enough to take such a possibility into account. It was why he came – to extract the truth from messenger's lips and discover what he wanted. After all, there was no other demand enclosed within the invite. Now though, his doubts skyrocketed.

"Ah yes," the boy suddenly added, "there is Internet connection in this room so feel free to access your own files from here."

Frowning, the businessman sat down by the desk and turned on the laptop the letter had advised him to bring along. He slowly went through the numbers, carefully checking them one by one – distantly watched over by that bodyguard. It took him slightly less than an hour – and half the file's content – to admit defeat.

Somehow, the youth had been right. Someone had played with their figures. And if this got out –

"What do you want?" Reiji spat out, although what he truly wanted to ask was '_where have you gotten this information?_'. But playing by this 'Takamiya's' rules was what mattered now. Their accounting errors must not get out to the public. Reiji gritted his teeth in frustration. It most probably was the work of a small group of executives and he would not let the entire company take the fall for them.

He would not let their stocks plummet because of a few idiots' mistakes.

Sometimes, he really hated his co-workers.

"A game."

Eyes wide, Reiji stared at him incredulously. Of all the things to demand! A game. After such flawless manipulation – where the mastermind behind this ploy had managed to destabilise him by sending him a boy-messenger – why would the man simply settle for a game? Where was the logic in that?

"So, a _game…_" He bit out sarcastically.

The teenager's eyes twinkled with delight and at that very moment, Reiji suddenly realised how old and hard they had appeared at first. Although he looked young, there was something harsh and ruthless in the boy's features, in his attitude.

It hit him like a strike of lightning. The one he was dealing with was no mere child and this game he asked for held more depths to it than Reiji had realised.

He had been a fool.

"I heard your ability to play shougi matches that of a fourth dan professional. Play me and this little scandal would never reach the media. Whether I win or lose, your company will still get out scot-free." He walked over to the coffee table. "But if I win," he smirked, staring challengingly into the businessman's eyes, "we will discuss business."

Reiji almost smirked in turn. Oh how he had been fooled!

Blinded by his anger and his prejudices, he had not managed to see through Takamiya _Raito_'s façade. The youth who had presented himself today had been the complete opposite of the one he had met a few weeks ago – at the dinner they had had with the oyabun to celebrate the lack of mishap during the shareholder meeting.

By the syndicate boss' side had been a demure teenager. Obedient to a fault and constantly looking to the yakuza for approval. He was said to be the oyabun's adoptive son and very intelligent. But after witnessing their interaction and the youth's lack of freewill, he had quickly dismissed him from his thoughts.

It had been a mistake. It had been a mistake to judge the teenager so quickly because here he was, his true self shining through – and a complete opposite of the mindless robot from a few weeks back.

This was a man he could respect – especially after successfully fooling everyone so effortlessly. Reiji himself had not been able to associate the two different personas, despite how perceptive he usually was.

As he sat down for the game, he felt his inners bubble with anticipation. The youth would pit everything he had against him to prove his 'worth'. Because this was what it was all about: Takamiya Raito wanted to move out of his father's shadows and needed the businessman's help.

He had set up this entire scheme to demonstrate his abilities. He proved his knowledge on business and technology through the blackmail, and now, the game was set to prove that the scheme was his own… and how very cunning he was.

Half-hidden by his long bangs, a sly smile shaped itself on Reiji's lips. He bent down to move a rook three spaces to the left. There was no longer any need for such a convoluted ploy – now that he had finally seen through it. Reiji would be blind not to acknowledge the boy's worth.

No, if the proposal proved to be as beneficial as he suspected, Reiji would be glad to help him.

For Takamiya Raito could become a very useful asset and ally.

* * *

_A prince is also respected when he is either a true friend or a downright enemy, that is to say, when, without any reservation, he declares himself in favour of one party or against the other; which course will always be more advantageous than standing neutral … Because he who conquers does not want doubtful friends who will not aid him in the time of trial; and he who loses will not harbour you because you did not willingly, sword in hand, court his fate._

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

The woman still had not moved from her spot and kept watching him suspiciously. Her fingers clutched tightly onto her black duffel bag. Sighing, Raito turned to face her, making sure not to let his irritation show. "Is everything alright?"

After a few seconds, she finally revealed the source of her unease. "How – how did you know that?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he went back over his previous words. "How I knew you were looking for accommodations?" He asked. At her intense look, he chuckled. "It's your duffel bag. Where else would you be going at such an hour?"

Giving her satchel an incredulous look, a quiet laugh escaped from her lips. "Sorry. I wasn't thinking. But yes, I'm looking for a capsule hotel. I remember one being –" She bit her lips for a moment, thinking.

"– that way." He finished for her, referring to the establishment a few streets away. "But you know, your reaction is perfectly understandable. You were nervous, especially with me appearing out of nowhere like that. Though I do not know why a lady like you would be out in these parts at such hours. Tokyo is especially dangerous nowadays."

Her rapid strides had quickly caught up to his. He saw her huff, affronted by his remark. "I can take care of myself you know. I've trained in martial arts."

Raito smiled down at her. "Have you? In what? Karate? Or judo?"

"Capoeira."

"…" The yakuza did not know how to respond to that quietly proud declaration. It was an unusual choice for a Japanese, but then… "That's good I guess. Its swift fluid movements counter the more violent styles quite well, especially for women." He sighed dramatically, while casually throwing his wrist a glance. "I myself did not have much of a choice on the matter. I'm afraid my education mostly centered upon aggression, mixing different attack styles like Xingyiquan and the more eclectic Hapkido for example."

She cracked a smile. "I guess we would make quite a good team then."

He casually brushed a stray lock of hair away from his eyes, glad to see the tension leave her. "I'm afraid Kohashi would feel quite left out however." He added, smirking. His bodyguard mock glared at him.

She giggled. "Yes, but I must wonder why one as proficient as you would need a guard. Overprotective parents?" She tapped her gloved fingers on her cheek. "But then, why would those men run away from your presence?" The intention behind her sly question did not escape him.

_Ah… so she was only playing along._

"Family connections."

"Your family is in the police."

"You could say…"

Behind him, Kohashi could barely hide his smirk while Ryuk was giving out a full-blown chortle.

She nodded, proud of her guess. "Yes, it makes sense. And this little escapade – would it be your own form of teenage rebellion? Out to celebrate with your friends when Tokyo _is so dangerous nowadays?_"

"Caught me there! You cannot expect me to study for the entrance exams during all my vacation!"

She simply shook her head, amused. However, seeing as they were about to reach their destination, he knew he should remind her of his previous warnings. It wouldn't do for such an incident to occur again – whether she knew capoeira or not. His expression turned grim. "But you must beware. The streets really are more dangerous now because of recent events."

"Kira?" From the tone of her voice, she clearly did not understand where he was getting at. After all, Kira had yet to go on frenzied killing sprees.

"In a way," he started hurrying his pace after seeing the position of the needle on his watch. "With what happened on the 27th –"

"– the police are overworked. There is no one to spare to patrol the streets." She finished solemnly. "I understand all too well."

"It only got worse with Etsuko-san's death. Opinions on the NPA's efficiency have plummeted." The youth saw her breath hitch. He frowned before continuing. "But it doesn't matter. I believe that in the end, justice will prevail. L will solve this case, like any other before it."

"You believe so?"

"I know so." _I need it to be so._ "No matter how just Kira may portray himself as, his actions are fundamentally wrong. He cannot judge others – criminal or police officers – when he does not even possess all the facts. Without even acknowledging the consequences of his actions." Raito phrased his words carefully, making sure that they could be aimed at both parts of his audience. "He cannot hope to change the world this way. L will catch him sooner or later and all will return to what it once was."

"I hope you are right." They arrived before the capsule hotel, situated at the edge of Kabukicho. As she moved to open the door, she looked at her companion and smiled softly. "Thank you for everything Takamiya-san. I hope that you won't be late to whichever appointment you are hurrying to."

"Ah. So you noticed me checking my watch."

"Of course. So this is it then."

"It is." He turned to leave before suddenly stopping. "By the way, what's your name?"

"Maki Shouko." She gave a bow. "Perhaps with luck, we'll to see each other again." And disappeared behind the opaque set of doors.

By his side, Ryuk gave a strange little laugh. Raito startled. It was different from the death god's usual derisive gurgle. It sounded more like the one he had had when he had been gleefully making fun of the youth's inevitable selfish use of the Death Note. At the time, he had said that he had always known –

Raito's eyes widened. _The name!_

_A fake one then. _He felt his inners warm up at her ingenuity._ You have all my admiration 'Maki-san', though your precaution was unnecessary. There was absolutely no reason for me to kill you._

"Takamiya-san, do you truly believe Kira will be caught?"

"He will. It is the only possible outcome with L on his case. He has gotten away with his crimes for long enough already and sooner or later, they would all catch up to him. It will only be a matter of time before he is judged and punished – for the good of us all."

The bodyguard frowned and did not say anymore.

* * *

"You are late."

"I apologise but I was caught up on my way here."

"_You_ were the one who asked to meet me and you are late." The elder Manabe repeated. "I do not appreciate being taken lightly."

Raito sighed, running a hand through his hair. Perhaps he shouldn't have accompanied 'Maki-san', but then, letting her go off alone would have been irresponsible of his part. "What is done is done." He stated firmly, moving the chair aside before sitting down. "Or are you so petty that you would want to pick on one incident the entire night?"

Manabe-san sent him a glare boiling with hatred and contempt but desisted in his pursuit. "Fine, talk."

At that reaction, Raito wanted to rub his forehead in his frustration. By moving the conversation along, he had set himself a mile back in his endeavour to win Manabe over. His success at gaining the man's respect on the thirteenth was now rendered nil. Usually, the seventeen-year-old would not have made such an elementary mistake but with all the stress that has been piling up lately, the consequences were slowly appearing. It was too much and all he wanted to do was crawl under his covers and never come out. Bury himself away from the world. He was simply so tired.

But now, he would have to work even harder.

"It is good to see that you do have some backbone; that you're not just your brother's shadow." Raito said, quickly switching tactics. He may as well go for an antagonistic approach, now that he had already riled up the man.

Behind him, he felt Kohashi wince.

"You know, if you're just going to insult me, then I may as well leave." The thirty-nine-year-old made a move to get up.

Raito's next words arrested him in his steps however. "Leave then. It's not as though I care whether you crawl back under your brother's leash. After all, you shouldn't even be here today, 'traitorously' meeting up with the enemy." He waved at the waitress to bring a glass of beer over. "Perhaps I shouldn't discuss anything with you. Your territory's affairs apparently aren't yours to deal with. You were even excluded from the negotiations on the 27th. Such a shame…"

Manabe-san actually snarled. Raito blinked, amazed at the two half-siblings sudden resemblance. Perhaps it came from their father…

"You know nothing of my situation."

"Perhaps I do not," his voice lowered, "but I do have a brother and I know perfectly well how it feels, to be in another's shadow. Although Katsuo's departure had more to do with a certain set of circumstances than anything else, it does not mean you too should rely on luck to rid yourself of the competition. Your own fate isn't set in stone." He leaned closer over the table, whispering. "His powerbase isn't as solid as you think."

From the look on Manabe-san's face, he did not believe him. It didn't matter because it was Raito's task to make him believe. "I'm listening."

At least he was interested, even though he was most probably motivated by amusement more than anything else – as demonstrated by the tinge of mockery in those few words.

The waitress brought the alcohol over. Raito thanked her. As soon as she left, his voice took that sly tone again. "You are not alone in your resentment against Tsuchinoko's oyabun, and I'm not talking about those outside of the syndicate," he pronounced conspiringly. "We all know about the crackdown in Kobe, but what you may not have realised is that that specific case is but the beginning. If we continue as we are now, it would replicate itself here, in Kanto. The NPA may be paying less attention to us at the moment, as they are all preoccupied with cleaning up their department. However, once that is over, they would seek to regain the public's esteem."

"They would turn on us," Manabe-san whispered, blanching.

"They can ignore the occasional death or two if it does not involve the citizens, but if a full-blown war takes place, we would not have that luxury. When it resumes, your brother would have finished dealing with the police in Kobe. This delay also means that the NPA would have completed their own investigation and can now fully focus on us. We must prevent that from happening."

The man was looking down, thinking. Good. "What do you propose we do?"

"It would be best if we resolve the matter on our own. After all, it started off as an internal affair between our two groups and it should remain that way."

Manabe sneered. "You actually think he would let it go after he himself had blown it out of proportions."

"No, but who is to say that he would have the right to stay involve if we play our cards right?" Raito hypnotically twirled the glass in his hand, watching the amber liquid slosh to and fro. He stopped for a bit to stare his companion straight into the eyes. "How many men were loyal to you before your father's death?"

"At least a third, maybe even half – but very few are first level executives," he answered cautiously. "But if you think I would gain any support for taking over Tsuchinoko, it is already too late. Akihito _is_ the oyabun and there is nothing I can do about that." He finished off bitterly, taking a great gulp from his own glass.

Painful subject.

"But what if those men who were – are – still loyal to you break off from Tsuchinoko and form another syndicate under your rule. Already, with the police's action, the group is losing power and influence in their home ground. Discontent will only rise as the branch offices will have to pay the price. Do you not think that they would prefer to back you up – especially since it would avoid them this senseless war?"

With that, his proposal said and placed upon the table, Raito stood up and set his untouched glass on the wooden surface. "I will leave you to your thoughts then. You know how to contact me."

He immediately left the room, Kohashi close behind his heels. As soon as they were in the streets again, the bodyguard leaned in to whisper his approval in his ears. "He will agree."

"I hope."

Manabe Ichirou was a powerful ruthless leader. He undoubtedly hated his current situation. This sudden offer from Raito's part would seem like a dream come true. But he was cautious and would warily examine the situation and all its possible repercussions in detail before proceeding.

Raito would not allow him the luxury. He glanced down at his watch. It was 1:56 AM. Fukuda-san would die in twenty-one minutes.

If he had calculated everything correctly, Manabe would stay at the bar for a while longer before leaving. On his way back, he would be forced to make a decision.

Between the bar and his apartment lay Fukuda-san's office. Whether he witnesses the event or the police surrounding the area the shooting will tak place in, the consequences will be the same.

Manabe will find out that one of his brother's men has killed a Night Hands' saiko-kanbu. And he could not afford more enemies in Kanto.

He would have to comply and ally himself to Raito.

* * *

Naomi impatiently paced around NPA headquarters' lobby. It was strange but none of the investigators for the Kira case were here – and hadn't been present since early in the morning. After all, she had been waiting since 10 o'clock and it was almost 1:30 PM now. Besides heading off to the cafeteria to buy a sandwich, she had not left her post. She dared not in case she missed the police officers' long-awaited arrival.

She couldn't take the chance.

"Ah Matsuda-san!" The receptionist called out to a young man who had been hurrying in. He was in the midst of failing to fold back his black umbrella. One of the ribs seemed to be broken. "This lady there," he announced, pointing at Naomi, "has been waiting for you or someone from the investigation team to arrive."

He turned to look at her curiously. She quickly walked towards him. "You have something for me?" He asked, confused.

"Yes. I –" She glanced around at all the people passing by. "But should we speak here? I mean –"

His eyes lit up in understanding. "Yes! You're right of course!" Matsuda-san answered, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. "Come, let's go to the office."

_Finally!_

Her entire body giddy with anticipation, she quickly followed him through the corridors. The inside of the NPA looked no different than the FBI headquarters. It was a maze of hallways interspersed with doors on both sides.

He stopped in front of one which was labelled 'Vicious Criminal Serial Murders Special Investigation Force'. "Well, I guess I should warn you about the mess," he told her while he placed his key in the lock.

And the room was quite messy. Papers and documents were strewn across a good number of the desks, while huge stacks of papers were placed on a no longer free table – probably waiting to be sorted. As Naomi curiously scrutinized the room, she could not help but think back fondly on her time with the FBI. Their office was just as bad – if not worse – during a time of crisis.

"Damn phones." Matsuda-san grumbled.

The incessant ringing was yet another similarity. The NPA agent immediately proceeded to pull the cord out of each. She watched him go at it amusedly.

Finally, after the stringent noise had died down, Matsuda gave out a contented sigh. He grabbed the nearest chair and plopped himself on it. "Peace at last!" He exclaimed, stretching his arms above his head. "Now what is it wanted to tell us?"

"I – I have information for L. I think I –" she nervously looked around the room, as though searching for hidden cameras. "It is secure here, right?"

"Yup!" He exclaimed, not looking at all offended.

She took a deep breath. "I think I found a possible clue to Kira's identity."

"Wow really?" His eyes widened with admiration. "Wait…" he suddenly added, as though realising he may be getting ahead of himself, "you're sure about it right? We get a lot of calls each day and…"

Naomi shook her head. "No, my source is reliable. My fiancé is part of the FBI –"

His eyebrows shot up. "The FBI, you say?" He frowned for a moment before coming to a conclusion. "Hey! What if I call L for you and you tell him yourself! Must be something important for your boyfriend to send you all this way! Just wait a moment." He swivelled the chair around and punched in the number on the standard white phone – after plugging it back in of course.

"Yeah. There's a woman here who wants to speak to L."

A long pause and Matsuda suddenly winced. He sheepishly turned to look at her. "What's your name by the way?"

Biting her lips, she thought about giving out the same fake name she had invented for Takamiya-san. She quickly realised though that it'd be better if she could somehow clue L in onto her true identity – without revealing her true name. "Tell him it's Waraya Nijiyo." Hopefully, he would remember her from the Wara Ningyo Murders – more commonly known as the Los Angeles BB Murder Cases.

Another bout of silence and she wrung her hands nervously. She still couldn't believe her luck. When she came to Japan, she hadn't at all expected to have the chance to talk to L himself. She had been certain that her message would only be passed on to him.

But now, it was her opportunity to work with him again. As soon as he pieced the meaning of her alias together…

_He would get it in no time_, she thought determinedly. The number one detective had after all solved the BB case with her – in all its subtleties.

Finally, Matsuda turned to her and he was grinning. She smiled in turn. "L wants to talk to you."

She immediately took the phone.

"Waraya Nijiyo." The scrambled mechanical voice was the same as the one from two years ago. A sense of excitement built up within her. Yes, they would be able to solve this. "1313 or 404?"

"404." She immediately answered.

"I heard you have found a link towards Kira's identity."

"Yes, I –"

He cut her off. "Pay close attention. I have reason to believe that by coming to the NPA and asking so vehemently to speak to the taskforce, you may have attracted Kira's attention."

Her breath hitched. "Do you mean the NPA has been compromised?" She whispered.

A pause. "Yes. Did you tell your name to anyone?"

"No."

"Good. Listen, as soon as you've delivered your message, Watari will come and get you. We'll have you out of the country as soon as possible. Hopefully, Kira still does not know of your arrival."

Naomi frowned. This wasn't what she wanted. She did not want to run away. Yes, she came to tell L about Etsuko but, after speaking to him, she felt the need to fully participate in hunting Kira down.

"No. I'm going to join you. I want to help."

Her fingers tensed around the phone as the seconds ticked by, waiting for L's answer. "Are you sure? Your fiancé would not be happy."

"He is not happy that I am here but this is more important than anything in the world. This is about justice."

There was no pause this time. It was as though L had been expecting this answer all along. Had he been testing her? "Fine. Come as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. I am currently in the Teito hotel, room 609. Get Matsuda to help you leave the NPA."

And with that, a soft click was heard, announcing that the elusive detective had hung up.

"So, so? You didn't tell him your clue?" Came Matsuda's eager query.

She beamed at him. "No, I am going to meet him."

"Wow! He trusts you so much already!"

Seeing as the police officer would find out soon enough, she had no trouble sharing that bit of truth. "Well, I have worked with him before. I used to be part of the FBI."

His eyes bugged.

"L told me to meet him at his hotel, but I will need your help to discreetly get out of the NPA headquarters."

Matsuda nodded in understanding.

It took them less than ten minutes to reach their destination. Throughout it all, she could hear her heart pounding with excitement. It had been quite a while since she had pit herself against criminals – ever since her betrothal with Raye. To actually take part in such a high-profile and difficult case was exhilarating. Like the BB murders. She may have detested the circumstances but the adrenaline rush that came from solving the maniac's clues was undeniable.

An elderly gentleman with a neatly trimmed moustache and small spectacles perched on his nose opened the door. "Ah, Waraya. I must once again extend my thanks for helping L out catch B."

She blinked. "You are –?"

"I am Watari," he said after executing a formal bow after the door had closed behind them.

A scruffy-looking, slouching man entered the room, followed by four Japanese males sporting suits (probably the police officers). She blinked again.

The new arrival wore a loose white cotton shirt and baggy jeans that seemed somewhat frayed at the end. His messy black hair spiked all over the place – as though a brush had never touched it – and there were dark circles under his eyes. His skin was deadly pale.

And he definitely looked familiar.

"Matsuda," the order in his apathetic cold voice could not be mistaken for anything else, "aren't you supposed to man the headquarters?"

"Sorry?" Her companion seemed to shrink into himself.

Then the – what should she call him exactly? – turned to her.

"It is good to see you again Waraya."

Her words finally found their way out of her throat. "You – you are L!?"

"Yes, but please call me Ryuuzaki."

Definitely déjà vu.

* * *

L curled up in front of his laptop on the ground. It had been a busy tedious – annoying – day working with the NPA officers. He could easily understand how useful they were, and how much he needed them – especially after the mass resignation – but it didn't mean he had to like it. They were… loud. And nosy. And constantly questioning him.

It was as though they all felt that they now had the prerogative to drill him on his various theories instead of blankly accepting them – as they had before. All this simply because he was no longer working behind a computer screen. Because he was 'human'.

It was annoying but he would learn to deal with it. And Watari – who was bustling around washing the dirty dishes and tidying up the room – seemed quite content that his charge was finally interacting with others.

If only he had a choice…

Well, at least something good came out of it. Systematically munching on his thumb, L reviewed the unexpected arrival of Misora in his head. To have her here and working for him was an unexpected bonus and although he would be depriving Penbar of her company, he personally felt it was quite a waste that she had quit the FBI to marry him.

A complete waste of potential.

Not that he exactly remembered her after these two years. Had she given her real name, he wouldn't have been able to place her. After all, the top investigator had worked with innumerable agents over the years and it wouldn't have been possible for him to remember them all. Yet, by mentioning the Wara Ningyo case – or referring to it with her name – his mind had immediately made the connection. There was no way he could ever forget B.

And today, she had proven herself to be just as resourceful as she had two years ago. Kira's mistake regarding Etsuko had been a grave one and it once again confirmed L's theory. The murderer must have a link to the police somehow.

Now, all they needed to do was research the officer's background thoroughly. The task was further simplified with the NPA unconsciously helping them. After all, L had advised – ordered –the agencies around the world to research Kira's victims. He expected their individual reports sometime soon.

As a consequence, the taskforce on had to dig deeper into Etsuko's case, without tipping off Kira.

It would only be a matter of time before they found the two's link. Thus, fully satisfied with their progress – and wishing to enjoy his lost quiet solitude – he had sent them off for the night. As for Naomi, she was staying in the suite next to his.

Which left him alone to enjoy a long neglected pastime. It was time to crack down on Kira's delusional supporters and perhaps taunt Kirin some more.

It had been a long day.

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - ELIMINATION OF CORRUPTION**

**27/12/03, 7:23 AM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _Fellow believers! Have you heard the message from Kira-sama?_

_He has acted and revealed to us the level of corruption within our own law enforcers. We were naïve to believe evil lay only in the heart of criminals because hiding amongst us are many sinners, slowly leeching away our society's essence._

_Praise be for Kira-sama and his holy mission! Our saviour will prevail!_

_Let us now gather and pray for his ongoing success._

**27/12/03, 7:45 AM - STARRY-HOPE**: _OMG! OMG! OH MY GOD!! I just saw the newspaper and wow! Kira is so brilliant to have uncovered all those corrupt officials!_

_For sure he's going to win. L stands no chance against him._

**27/12/03, 7:48 AM – POISONWYRM**: _Ha. I wonder what L would do now that his corrupt servants are gone. Go Kira! Show the world what it is supposed to be like!_

**27/12/03, 8:01 AM - VIRTUOUS**: _Watch out you fat useless politicians. You geezers will be next._

**…**

**27/12/03, 1:43 PM - BLACK-PROPHET**: _It seems even Japan is not spared from these parasites. Etsuko Kenta, the Head of the Organised Crime Department, has just been executed by Kira._

_He was apparently helping the yakuza out. No wonder there is so much crime on our streets._

**27/12/03, 1:45 PM – DOWN-WITH-L**: _Damn the man. It is good that Kira-sama is helping us cleanse our system. Without him, who knows how long his charade would have gone on? There's a rumour going on that none of his coworkers even knew of his links with criminals._

_If not for Kira-sama, who knows how many innocents would have suffered because of that filth?_

**…**

**27/12/03, 11:07 PM - RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE**: _In the mist of your festivities, do not forget God's sacred message. We are but his peons and although this elimination of evil is a great cause for celebration, we must not neglect our duty._

_In order to attain God's ideal world, it is necessary that we all do our part. We must involve ourselves in eradicating corruption from our institutions. God has shown us the path. We must simply remain faithful to his purpose and help him fulfill it._

_There is no other way to attain God's New World. A long road lies ahead of us but let us not despair – God and all his power are on our side. Come, let us leave the sanctity of our home and demand a complete perusal of the police! Let us work together and abolish the corruption that has insinuated itself in every aspect of our society. Criminals are but the most apparent symptoms of our rotting world._

_This is God's will. Do not forget it, do not let him down. We must stand together and prove to him our loyalty, our devotion, by helping him out in his divine quest._

**27/12/03, 11:08 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Wow… when you put it that way._

**27/12/03, 11:10 PM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _Fellow Kira supporters, I believe a little demonstration is in order. As RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE has pointed out, we must take steps ourselves. I propose we each go before our police station tomorrow, protest and demand for a complete reform! We will not stand by to be ruled by a bunch of sinners!_

_This is what Kira-sama wants. It is what his message is telling us to do. Let us revolutionise the world ourselves!_

**27/12/03, 11:11 PM - KIRANATIC**: _I am totally with you man_

**27/12/03, 11:13 PM - BLACK-PROPHET**: _Me too! It is time we show the world that we will no longer silently stand by._

_TO JUSTICE!!_

**…**

**28/12/03, 9:46 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Congratulations everyone! It was a total success!_

**28/12/03, 9:47 PM – PRINCESS1990**: _I know – I know!! Even the media was there and they interviewed ME!!_

_I LOVE YOU KIRA-SAMA!!_

**…**

**29/12/03, 12:37 AM - KILLING-GRACE**: _LOL. Don't you guys find it strange that KIRIN and ANTI-KIRA weren't here these last few days?_

**29/12/03, 12:40 AM - BLACK-CAT13**: _I thought it was a bit quiet around here…_

**29/12/03, 12:41 AM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _They have finally learnt to fear Kira-sama's wrath. Our Lord's display on the 27__th__ has scared them away. Perhaps they have learnt their lesson, perhaps they are only hiding away, or perhaps they have been punished._

_It matters not. Now, our forum is free from their blasphemy once more. Let us rejoice!_

**…**

**29/12/03, 4:50 PM - HITOMI2003**: _Kira-sama, kill my boss next! She too is corrupted!_

**…**

**Today, 10:26 PM - ETERNAL666**: _It really is too bad that Kira isn't killing more every day, y'know, especially now that he's proven he could. It'll be so much simpler, no?_

**Today, 10:37 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _I am quite glad to know that I was sorely missed. Though the last few days have been busy, my health has not suffered in any way. Thank you for your concern moderator-san._

_However, I find it quite reprehensible that you all take so much joy talking about the deaths and future deaths of your contemporaries. This can count as premeditated murder, you know._

**Today, 10:38 PM - STARRY-HOPE**: _Oh shit. He's back. What the heck are you doing back?_

_I guess he really wants to end up like those police officers._

**Today, 10:38 PM - JUDO-POWER**: _Duh. Kira managed to find their names and crimes. What's gonna stop him from finding ANTI-KIRA's? Wonder how long it'll take…_

**Today, 10:42 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _It is such a shame you have all already forgotten the message Kira sent out a few days back – the one RIGHTHEOUS-APOSTLE has so cunningly manipulated._

_Kira did not kill those officers because they were against him. If he did, then most of you would be dead – for destroying his 'godly' image with your debasing speculations._

**Today, 10:45 PM - STARRY-HOPE**: _You are the one who is constantly going against him! He has no reason to be angry with us loyal supporters! You're being ridiculous again._

**Today, 10:47 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Ah, but that's where you are wrong. Many of you are using Kira's so-called 'messages' for your own purpose. I do not doubt Kira's annoyance at having them reinterpreted in such a way._

_Especially when he has put as much effort into being seen as an impassive judge._

**Today, 10:47 PM - RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE**: _I resent being called an opportunistic. I would never dare debase God's message in the way you implied. 144 officers were killed on the 27__th__. A sudden veer off of Kira's usual path. 144 officers were killed because of their acts of corruption._

_It was meant to shock the world. To make it react. To make them realise the rot within society._

_God wants us to act. It is no wonder he keeps his killings minimal when there are still so many criminals at large. He simply desires to push us onto the right path, helping us along by eradicating the greatest obstacles. These dead officers serve only to remind us of the bigger picture and the other threats to our ideal world._

_This is God's mission. He is here to help us reform society to its very core. But we must do our part and I, for one, will never fail him, for his task is noble and just._

_And forever he will remain my idol, my God._

**Today, 10:52 PM - KIRIN**: _RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE, your blind trust in him is admirable but foolish. Who is to say 'Kira' is truly so righteous? You judge him based only on his actions – but is killing not an unforgivable crime by itself?_

_He killed 144 officers. He shocked the world, forced them to react and 'instil a change in their legal system'. But who is to say such a noble goal was truly what he had in mind? What if his murders were but a cover for his deeper, selfish crimes?_

_Why would someone as intelligent as you put him on a pedestal when you do not even know him? When you can only guess his motives?_

_Do not let him govern your every move. It is good that you acted but remember: that decision was your own. Not Kira's. Not a killer's. Already, he has forced a change on the law enforcement. Who is to say that this reform is for the better? Who is to say they are ready for a complete makeover?_

_The streets are more dangerous nowadays. Small crimes are on the rise because the NPA is in the mist of reorganising itself. In a way, Kira has committed more harm than good._

_And this was only the first step._

_Beware of Kira. If one decision of his can bring such adverse consequences, why should you trust him with your family, your peers, your community, your world?_

**Today, 10:53 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Welcome back KIRIN-kun. It has been getting quite lonely here without you._

**Today, 10:53 PM - KIRIN**: _Liar. You only logged in and posted a few minutes ago._

**Today, 10:53 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Why ever KIRIN-kun would assume I was talking about myself? Many comments have remarked on our absence these last few days. You are as presumptuous as ever I see._

**Today, 10:54 PM - KIRIN**: _chuckle And you just as annoying_

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

A half-smile appeared on L's face when he saw Kirin's response. It truly was good to be back.

For a moment, he had been certain he would be alone annoying the hell out of those Kira-fanatics but against all hope, Kirin had also decided to make a reappearance.

It must be fate.

Grinning, he chewed on his thumb some more and thought about an appropriate answer.

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - ELIMINATION OF CORRUPTION**

**Today, 10:58 PM - KIRIN**: _Busy because of Kira?_

**Today, 10:58 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _You could say. He has really made a mess out of things, don't you think?_

**Today, 10:59 PM - KIRIN**: _Yes. He has clearly driven the world into two separate factions. The supporters are more fanatic than ever, the law more against him – though he has outwardly managed to frighten them into submission. As for the undecided, many have chosen a faction after such a display._

**Today, 11:00 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _I see that you are back to 'Kira's effect on the world' mode. Such a shame. I particularly liked your more opinionated stance against RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE._

**Today, 11:00 PM - KIRIN**: _Do not count on it reoccurring. A little bit of my frustration has seeped through in my writing. Remember, these last few days have been a mess for me as well._

**Today, 11:00 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _I do not think so. KIRIN-kun does not see me make such mistakes. I think I am simply getting to you._

**Today, 11:00 PM - KIRIN**: _Now who is the one who is getting ahead of himself? I was responding to RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE, not you._

**Today, 11:01 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Details! It was the anticipation of conversing with me again that affected you._

**Today, 11:02 PM - KIRIN**: _ANTI-KIRA, you're such a bastard._

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

Raito shook his head at Anti-Kira's antics. Really, the man could be so _infuriating_, so infuriating that it was refreshing.

This banter – childish as it was – was exactly what he needed. It freed him somehow. Though he vehemently denied it, he did in fact notice a change in his style when he addressed Anti-Kira – showing the ease he felt conversing with the man.

In addition, though their exchange differed from his initial debates in the forum – more like reprimands – it was just as stimulating. No, more so because he knew that the discussion, when needed, can turn serious at any moment.

Their little barbs here were only foreplay.

* * *

_**January 1**__**st**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS MEMBERS POLICING KIRIN AND ANTI-KIRA**

**Today, 10:59 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Gah. I hate it when they do that._

**Today, 10:59 PM - GREENGECKO**: _At least they haven't invaded this thread, unlike the last few times…_

**Today, 11:02 PM - DOWN-WITH-L**: _Okay. Whose turn is it to try and chase them out?_

* * *

_**January 3**__**rd**__** 2004**_

"The nerve of that man!" Night Hands' oyabun was fuming. His loud tirade on Tsuchinoko's slight was punctuated by wild hand gestures. From his seat at Morinaga's side, Raito calmly watched Eto-san pace back and forth in the spacious office.

It seemed his plan had worked out even better than intended.

"It is bad enough that he tried to eliminate Takamiya-san when he was indisposed but to actually send his men here and kill Fukuda– ! I believe it is time we rein that upstart in. The power is truly getting to his head. He's going to regret contemplating moving into our territories."

Raito silently listened to Eto-san carry on his outburst, amazed at how well the senior executive's death had turned out. He had expected it to enrage the largest Kanto group; he had expected the syndicate to ally itself with the Black Dragon in order to enact revenge; he had expected a cordial – though reluctant – working relationship.

He had not expected the oyabun to place all the blame in Tsuchinoko's hands – to see it as a ploy against the Kanto Alliance as a whole. He had not expected that Takamiya-sama's 'attempted' assassination would have such a huge impact on the other boss' mentality.

Inwardly, the brunet felt his chest fill with anticipation. Fukuda's death was a regrettable lost, but one that was, unfortunately, necessary.

And he would leave his thoughts at that… for now.

At his left, the wakagashira had much trouble hiding his own glee. After all, everything was arranging itself in their favour. The second largest syndicate had already allied themselves with them – thanks to Raito's careful negotiations during their two weeks of reprieve and the favours they owed the Black Dragon. And only yesterday, Manabe-san had called, announcing his reluctant partnership.

With the three largest organisations banding together and the elder Manabe's support, Tsuchinoko would have a hard time moving against them. That his brother now opposed him certainly didn't help his situation.

It would take some careful manoeuvring from Raito's part – and hopefully no more deaths – but he would manage. He had managed so far after all.

When finally Eto-san had worked his anger into a low simmer, Raito tentatively spoke up, making sure to add a twinge of admiration in his tone. "I perfectly agree with you," he replied, referring to the oyabun's desire to declare open war. "The time is ripe. With such a weak leader at their head, Kobe's power is diminishing. Now that the police are on their case, we may as well take advantage of their volatile situation."

Morinaga-san did not react to his uncharacteristic response. Their strategy towards Eto-san had been amply discussed earlier. "They may be weakening, but that does not mean we can simply throw caution to the wind. If we start a war, the NPA would switch their focus towards us, scared that we would harm the civilians in our disputes."

"But what do you propose _then_?" Angrily bit out Night Hands' leader. "I am not going to sit back and let them get away with it. This time, they have gone too far!"

"How about we act more covertly?"

This time with a touch of uncertainty.

He needed to sound meek and respectful.

Eto-san was a very traditional leader who often decried the impertinence commonly found in the younger members. He loudly believed that they have lost their honour and their way. Such a man certainly would not have appreciated Raito speaking 'out of line' and advising him. It was for this particular reason he had always avoided negotiating with the man on his own.

Thus, Raito had to take a backseat and let Takamiya-sama's second-in-command take charge of the discussion.

Over the desk, the two men slowly started plotting their course of action for the next weeks. A few feet away, Raito enviously watched on – only occasionally interjecting his much-needed advice. Despite how little he was allowed to say, he could not let them stray from the desired outcome.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find out that there wasn't much to find.

Etsuko-san's records were impeccable. Even the police report – that had been submitted to L the day before – attested to that. None would have known of his involvement in organised crime had it not been for his suicide note.

He, unlike the majority of Kira's victims from that fateful day, had seemed truly innocent. It had been enough for his death to look suspicious.

It reeked of a set-up.

Of course, L had then sent the task-force looking for possible enemies, jealous subordinates and co-workers. Meanwhile, the detective had hacked and ransacked the ex-department head's 'private records' – those even the police wouldn't have access to.

From there, he had followed a murky trail through his bank statements – by tracing back a pair of inconsistencies (too many to have just been mistakes but too few to be noticeable to anyone but L) – into increasingly suspicious e-mails, to eventually wind up in his unknown Swiss account.

There were very little documents he had uncovered along the way but they had all confirmed the 'validity' of the man's suicide note.

And now, now that he had examined the situation in depth and had drawn his own conclusions, he convoked the taskforce around him. Six pairs of intent eyes were staring into his apathetic black orbs – though Misora's still bore that incredulous look in them. Watari was happily serving desserts.

After taking one huge bite from his cheesecake, L started speaking. His explanations, as usual, were succinct, kept to the bare minimum. It was his working policy. If they could not keep up with his train of thoughts, they would have to figure it out on their own. However, Matsuda simply did not understand this unspoken rule.

"So Kira's probably someone close to Etsuko-san? But how can you think that? Wouldn't there be a greater chance that it is the –" he lowered his voice conspiratorially and named his suspect, "–yakuza? After all, they would know all about Etsuko being corrupt!"

"Unlikely." L responded tartly, placing his small plate on the top of his knees so that its content would not distract him. "The yakuza have no reason to eliminate such an important contact within the police. Although the mass murders have at first set back the NPA's vigilance to their favour, the public's greater interest in law enforcement would eventually eliminate much of the foothold organised crime holds over Japan." He poked the strawberry and dipped it into his mouth. "Especially with the war that has been brewing up."

"We also haven't seen them take advantage of the situation," added Aizawa. "Only one death has been reported but after that, there wasn't any other sign of violence. While Tsuchinoko is completely occupied with the Prefectural Police, the Kanto groups are laying low."

"Perhaps in fear of Kira."

"Oh."

Glad that that was over, L continued. "The yakuza not only would have no reason to eliminate criminals but to do so would be vastly detrimental to their operations. However, it is a completely different matter for a police officer.

"It is very probable that Kira is an idealistic young agent who, after inadvertently discovering Etsuko-san's corrupt ways, became disgusted with the police's limited actions." L carefully cut off another piece from his rapidly shrinking cake. "He was probably afraid of speaking out because of his lower rank. However, upon finding Kira's power, he had decided to correct the situation himself."

He mournfully tore his gaze away from the scrumptious cheesecake and directly addressed his 'co-workers'. "Aizawa, Waraya and Mogi, start scanning through the Organised Crime Department for possible suspects. Matsuda, Yagami, continue your research on Etsuko's background." Licking his lips to get rid of the leftover crumbs, he moved to dismiss them but stopped, when he noticed that the police chief seemed to be lost in thoughts.

"Yagami-san, is anything the matter?"

"I –" he hesitated. "May I know exactly which boryokudan Etsuko-san had links to?"

"All the major ones in Kanto, but he did enjoy an especially close relationship with Night Hands and Black Dragon."

Yagami paled.

"Is there any reason why you would want to know?"

"No – none at all. It, it may not even be relevant to the case."

The younger man's eyes narrowed. "I will be the judge of that, if you please."

His hands clenched at his sides, gripping the fabric of his pants even tighter. "I – it is just a private shame. My big – biggest regret." Reluctantly, a set of fingers released their tight hold and shakily reached for his wallet. From its back pocket, he retrieved a much abused photograph of a young boy.

The child looked no older than twelve and although he was smiling, there was a sense of arrogance and pride in that sweet expression. His soft brown hair was perfectly combed in place and his pressed suit only emphasized the youth's maturity and intelligence.

L would not have expected anything less from Yagami-san's son – though there was a strange feeling of familiarity to that picture…

"Is that Takamiya Raito?" Misora suddenly exclaimed.

L's head snapped to look at her.

* * *

**A/N**: I overestimated this chapter. I thought I would be able to fit everything in but, apparently not. sigh After much deliberation, I decided that I may as well post it now, before focusing some more on my studies (and not keep you guys waiting). What I promised but did not occur would take place next time, unfortunately.

Anyway, I would just like to say how AMAZED I am that so many would think I'd actually kill Misora. C'mon! How the heck can Raito even guess what she was doing here? So nope, she's alive and kicking. And playing a huge part.

Now, here's something important. I am slowly starting to edit the previous chapters after having some glaring faults pointed out. Only minor details will be changed but if there is anything major, I will mention it in the beginning of the next update. I'll try to get one chapter done before every post. So yes, the prologue has been edited (to find out about the minor changes, check my livejournal, the 'edit' tag).

BTW, this is something I have been pondering for a while. Should I get a beta? It's not like I _really_ need one, but I know it does help in a way. But then, it also seems very troublesome (yes, I'm that lazy!).

Okay, so thank you all so much for your responses for last chapter (and thank you Eadhaohn for bringing up Hapkido). I look forward to hearing your thoughts!

_Edited 11/08/08_


	10. Of Reunion and Union

_Warning: This is why it is rated M._

Chapter 9

Of Reunion and Union

* * *

_**July 13**__**th**__** 2001**_

His countenance perfectly steely, Makoto calmly watched over his charge. He did not approve; there were many things Raito had done that he had not exactly approved of, but this, he would allow. He could easily see how much the teenager needed it, needed to find a certain sense of control again.

Already seven and a half months have passed since that night and though the boy had tried to hide it, he knew how much that single event had destroyed him. Destroyed the confidence and strength that had so annoyed him and drawn him towards the youth despite himself. That night had tarnished his vibrancy; irrevocably razed his arrogance. Although it was what Makoto had wished for when he had first met Raito, he now knew better.

He could not bear to see his charge's eyes so burdened, his sense of self so broken.

And there was nothing the bodyguard could do about it. He could not go against Takamiya – no matter how wrong the man's selfish desires were; he could not protect the one he had been charged with protecting – not from the very man who had charged him with the task.

All he could do was silently watch on as the youth desperately tried to recollect his sense of self-worth and carry on. Every time he saw the façade Raito had to put up, something inside the yakuza clenched with regret. This show of arrogance was but a shadow of what he had been, a simulacrum of that cocky confident child with far too much knowledge and cunning for his own good. The elegant youth who knew far too well how to manipulate those around him.

Now, all that remained was this poor copy, this broken copy, expertly glued back together but whose cracks were all too visible to Makoto. And every time he saw it, he could not help but mourn what had been lost.

And yet... and yet… He knew that Raito was far too strong, too much of a survivor, to let himself fade away under Takamiya's abuse – because, despite the intentions, it cannot be anything but abuse. It had taken seven and a half months but for the first time, Raito had dug himself out of the oyabun's grasp.

He was not rebelling, he was not fighting his adoptive 'father', but he was acting out on his own – for once.

Makoto did not approve: it was risky, foolish to involve himself with a businessman, but he knew how much the youth needed it – needed to feel in control again.

It was traitorous of his part to aid his charge but this was far more important than his – now lost – loyalty to Takamiya. It was about helping Raito piece back his shattered self. It was about saving the boy he had come to – care about.

As he glanced at the game quickly shaping between the two players, he could only wince at its intensity. Raito's eyes were completely focused on his task. He did not pause before moving his piece right after Namikawa's turn – never stopping to think. His game play was rapid, aggressive and constantly shifting, as he sacrificed pieces after pieces only to regain them later by engulfing his opponent's.

Despite his limited knowledge in shougi, Makoto could easily guess who had the lead. Beads of sweat covered Namikawa's temples and he kept irritatingly brushing stray strands of hair away from his frowning face. Seeing this, the bodyguard knew Raito had the upper hand and yet, he also knew how utterly vulnerable his charge was.

Not in the game, but to his own self.

The intensity and decisiveness of his moves were not due to confidence, but to desperation. The teenager was gambling all he had in this match he had engaged with Namikawa. His quick determined moves were simply a show of intimidation and strength. A show because where Raito had lost control to Takamiya, he was now attempting to regain it with Namikawa.

Control and mastery of his own self, of his own fate.

And if you examine further, the true nature of the game and Raito's state of mind were revealed. Makoto only understood the basics of Japanese chess but he knew his charge was taking innumerable risks, constantly trying to tempt Namikawa into an easy capture. Pieces were continuously sacrificed, but always, Raito would come back with a vengeance, dropping his own set of captured enemy soldiers and using them in turn.

His overall position over the board was quite vulnerable, despite his mastery over it and still, despite his skills, Namikawa never actually managed to take advantage of that weakness. Perhaps because he wasn't as willing to sacrifice his own position and peons.

He was not willing to risk as much to win. He was not motivated by desperation, like Raito.

Finally, after two long excruciating hours of a game Makoto could barely follow, Namikawa conceded defeat, having acknowledged the inevitability of his loss.

Letting out a long contented sigh, the man took out a handkerchief and wiped off the sweat from his forehead. "It was a wonderful game. I hope we will have the chance to play again in the future." The department head's languid tone had lost all traces of animosity.

Despite this show of goodwill, Makoto kept his guard raised.

"You should not count on it." Raito told him coolly, again donning another mask. "I do not have the time to indulge in mere games."

Namikawa did not react at the change in attitude. Instead, he smirked. "Should you not indulge me? After all, you are asking me for a favour."

At that moment, Raito caught Makoto's eyes. The bodyguard left to get the CD-case from the lone briefcase they had brought with them to this meeting. It had also held the same damning folders and files on Yotsuba.

"I doubt it. This proposal is probably far more beneficial to you than to me, as I can always find another company if you're not interested." Taking the disk from Makoto's hands, he slid it over to his guest. Namikawa looked at it curiously.

"This is the prototype of a program I am currently working on. The version here is designed specifically for companies. You may have all your employees and programmers test it out. I assure you that you have never encountered a program as complex as this one in your life. If you like it, meet me here in six months."

The business executive raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Six months? Isn't that a bit long?"

Raito made a show of being amused by quirking up a corner of his lips. "Oh, it would take that long to go through it and enjoy its complexity."

"Fine. In six months then, but in the bamboo bar downstairs. I wouldn't want you to go broke by constantly booking this room."

It didn't take Namikawa long after to collect his own affairs and leave them. As soon as the door closed behind their guest, all the arrogance and pride drained out of the youth's slender frame. His eyes blanked out and he seemed to shrink into himself.

Standing by the door, Makoto pretended to not notice. There were no reassurances he could give and his charge would only take them for pity.

Pity.

It was the one thing his tattered pride could not take. When he had emerged from his room that morning, he had shrugged off all of Makoto's concerns, icily telling him to leave him and that he was fine. His pride was the one thing that kept him going, that kept him alive. He drew strength from it, drew his arrogance and calculation from it… it served as his base for the constant performance he had to put up.

Even here… Raito's excessive manipulations that had been designed to broadcast his skills only made his insecurities all too clear to Makoto. After all, he had no need to justify himself to the businessman. If Namikawa could not see his worth, then they could always find another.

But no, the fifteen-year-old had to prove his merits to himself. He needed to demonstrate his strengths in a way that would leave no doubt in the other man's mind: through the blackmail, the game and even the six months allowance.

It was all so convoluted because Raito himself didn't know his own self any longer.

"Come. Let us leave. Takamiya-sama is waiting for us." Makoto told him. Inwardly, he grimaced at the thought.

Raito closed his eyes for a moment and then, as though summoning strength from an unknown source, he stood up, immediately drawing himself taller and more arrogantly. "Let us go then."

Go back to the gilded cage.

* * *

_And here let it be noted that a Prince should be careful never to join with one stronger than himself in attacking others, unless, as already said, he be driven to it by necessity. For if he whom you join prevails, you are at his mercy; and Princes, so far as in them lies, should avoid placing themselves at the mercy of others._

* * *

_**January 3**__**rd**__** 2004**_

_Takamiya Raito? As in Takamiya of the Black Dragon?_

_Why would Yagami have the man's son's picture in his wallet?_

It simply made no sense and L despised anything that was so illogical. Of course, he loved solving mysteries – it was his job after all – and the challenge Kira's inexplicable power posed, but not this absurdity of human nature.

Now that he thought about it, hadn't Yagami's files said that his son was –

"Chief, is your dead son not also named Raito?" Matsuda finished his thought for him. "What a coincidence!"

"He's not dead!" Yagami snapped. At the exclamation, he immediately turned regretful eyes back onto his lap. "I – I lied about the matter. That – he – that is my son." He hesitated once more. "Takamiya Raito _was_ my son."

L gnawed on his thumb.

"I – six years ago, I was the Head of the Organised Crime Department, as most of you know," he said, glancing ashamedly at his co-workers. "At the time, we started receiving numerous tips from an unknown source on the hideouts of Black Dragon's different caches of methamphetamine. It didn't take the syndicate long to notice and they kidnapped my son."

"So they killed him?"

"Matsuda, he's alive, remember," sharply reprimanded Aizawa.

"Oh… yeah."

"After a week, we were supposed to meet and they would let him go in exchange for my pledge to halt the investigation. But they reneged on their promise."

"They kept him," L finished bluntly.

Yagami kept his eyes fixed on the carpeted floor. "I gave in my resignation then. I didn't deserve to keep my badge after betraying my duty as a police officer, but the director convinced him to accept a demotion and transfer instead."

The four law enforcers nodded in understanding and sympathy while Misora still stared at the picture in shock.

L decided to be more practical. "What about the source?"

"The yakuza apparently found him. Etsuko-san tried to continue the investigation of course, but it never amounted to anything. Now we know why." He concluded bitterly.

All in all, it made sense. A little family tragedy mixed in with the yakuza, although –

"Any idea why they kept your son?"

Yagami shook his head with regret. "No. No explanations were given but I think it may be because Raito was very smart for his age. His letters mentioned lessons –"

"Letters?"

"He would occasionally write to me. Though they do not say much, they – they are all I have of him." He managed to choke out.

The world-class detective frowned. This entire situation seemed so convoluted that it could have sprung out from some author's twisted mind.

And Yagami was right: it was in no way relevant to the investigation. Still, he could at least make up for the lost time by confirming one little fact. "You brought up letters. Did he write to you about what's happening with Kira?" It would after all be useful to get an idea on Kira's impact on criminals from the source itself.

"Yes." He took out another crumpled piece of paper from his jacket. L could not help but wonder how many mementos the chief kept with him about his lost son. Rocking forward on his heels, he took the letter and started devouring its content.

'_30__th__ of December 2003_

'_Chief Yagami,_

'_May I offer my congratulations for your continual survival? It is wonderful to see that Kira did not judge you unworthy, unlike your fellow officers. And although having so many of our 'contacts' uncovered and killed is a triumph for justice, I must ask you to actually do your task and capture Kira._

'_You may feel some sympathy towards him because he is killing criminals but do not let his twisted brand of justice blind you. He is after all taking the world hostage and this, we cannot allow. If his murders – though immoral – are seen as just, than wouldn't other evils also become necessities? Where would we draw the line then, eh _father_?_

'_Find Kira, judge him, execute him. Do your duty Yagami-san and do not let yourself be intimidated away._

'_I pray the police hold stronger men than what Kira has shown the world._

'_Takamiya Raito'_

_Nothing at all like Yagami_, L concluded as he reached bottom of the short note. Clearly, the boy's stint with the yakuza had turned him into a cocky manipulative bastard. It was quite cruel of him to cast such doubts on his father's sense of justice. L would nevertheless acknowledge that it was also the best way to ensure that the chief investigator did not give up on his task.

Satisfied with its content, he passed it to the others. "It seems the yakuza is quite worried with Kira's actions. As you can see Matsuda, your assumption was unfounded. Let us go back to work then."

As L installed himself in front of his computer, he quickly noticed that Yagami and the others have not left their spot around the table. He watched them, scowling.

"Waraya, you – you said you saw my son?" There was so much desperation poured into that one plea.

She looked at him with compassion. "I – yes. The night I got here, he stopped three thugs from bothering me. He was very gracious and polite – nothing like the letter." She gave a wry chuckle. "I – when I asked why those men feared him and he answered 'family connections', I assumed he was talking about them being part of the police – not – well, he didn't lie." She shook her head. "No wonder his bodyguard looked so amused."

Yagami seemed to drink in every one of her words and as she reached the end of her tale, his eyes bore into hers, earnestly asking for more. "Please – please tell me everything about that meeting. How did he look? How did he act? What did he say? I –" He drooped his head to the ground. "Please, I beg you. It has been so long –"

Misora placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He looked fine and very handsome. He really grew up but you can still recognise his twelve-year-old self in him." She bit her lips for a moment, hesitating. "Look, I'll draw you a picture of him. I'm not that great but –"

"Please –"

L tuned out the rest of the conversation, no longer interested with the family drama. After all, he had just notice a much more pressing issue awaiting him. Despite the early hour – it was only four in the afternoon –, Kirin had written back and responded to the query he had left in the forum a few hours ago.

After all, Yagami's erstwhile son didn't hold a candle to the alluring Kirin.

* * *

_**January 3**__**rd**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - JUSTICE - KIRA'S SOLDIERS**

**Today, 6:34 AM – RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE**: _All you two have been doing is criticise God's actions. Yet, what have you done for the world? How are your constant censures of any help to our rotting society? _

_The reason I decided to become a prosecutor is because I have felt outrage and indignation against violence and defamation since my childhood. Kira's coming was an answer to my prayers and now, he is my inspiration. Not only are God's just executions a deterrent from crime, but they are also an incentive to the youth of today to get up their lazy asses and _contribute_ to society. You have no right to criticize God when you haven't done a thing._

_KIRIN, you constantly advise us to act if we wish to change the world, but what have you done? Your words may be grand but you disgust me, you hypocrites._

**Today, 6:57 AM - DOWN-WITH-L**: _Go R-A! You totally got them there. Because really, what right do they have to grumble if that's all they do?_

**Today, 7:26 AM – I-LUV-KIRA101**: _For my part, I am willing to offer Kira all my love and devotion! And if he wants, I'll be honoured to bear his babies!!_

**Today, 8:08 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Who ever said I do not fight for justice? RIGHTEOUS-APOSTLE should not reprimand me for something he does not know about._

_Besides, my task here is to keep you bloodthirsty fools in line. What about you KIRIN-kun? How would you say you 'contributed to the world'?_

**Today, 8:44 AM - KIRANATIC**: _Huh? You fight for justice? So you're one of those useless police officers out there. I pity ya man. Really, you guys are useless._

**…**

**Today, 4:04 PM - KIRIN**: _To say the truth, just like Kira, I too am a hypocrite. My actions are my own, with their own consequences, good or bad. But like anything, success comes with its price and sometimes, I wonder if that price is truly worth it._

_Our society is not a gentle one; it cares neither for the weak nor the compassionate. It works through power and ruthlessness – and eliminating one's competitors. To achieve ones' goal, another would lose his. It is regrettable but it is the truth._

_Kira believes the lives of criminals are enough to change the world. I believe it is the dream of a fool. Humanity cannot redeem itself in such a way. You cannot force a change. Only the masses can instil it._

_What have I done for society? Some would say I have helped justice. Why am I a hypocrite? Because overall, I would much rather watch from afar. One man does not have the right to change the world and although my little 'contribution' may have been more than enough, it is probable I could have done more – done better._

_But at what price?_

_I push for action; I want you followers to think for yourselves because you cannot let one man decide for you. Power should not be held in the hands of a handful of politicians, crime should not be regulated by only the law enforcement and detectives – and especially not Kira. No, society is made up of every one of you and you should all do your part._

_And I am a hypocrite because my part is not enough, can never be enough._

**Today, 4:23 PM - DEATH'S-MESSENGER (moderator)**: _You two sinners are nothing but nuisances desecrating the sanctity of this site. If you want to be socially useful, GET OUT OF MY FORUM!!_

**Today, 4:24 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Again with that self-depreciating and ambiguous attitude of yours KIRIN._

**Today, 4:27 PM - KIRIN**: _I serve to please. Why, did you expect me to act any differently?_

* * *

When Soichiro got home that evening, the first thing he did was wrap his arms around his young daughter. From her seat on the couch, she looked at him questioningly, surprised by his sudden show of affection.

"Dad?"

He kept a tight embrace on her fragile frame, using her as his lifeline. She was his daughter, his sweet little girl, his only child.

"Sayu, Sayu, Sayu," he kept repeating as a mantra while his forehead rested on hers.

"Dad? What's wrong? You're scaring me…"

At the slight trembling in her voice, he immediately let her go. Kneeling down next to her, he looked straight into her eyes, both hands gripping onto her small shoulders. "Sayu, promise me to always be careful."

"Sheesh Dad." She shrugged his palm off. "You're such a worrier. How many times do I have to tell you? I'm not going to walk alone and get run over by a car like –" She immediately stopped, seeing her father's wide eyes and knowing she had gone too far. "Sorry." She mumbled. "I'll go set the table." And she hurried out of the living room and into the open kitchen.

From her position at the stove, his wife had been silently watching his actions. There was a slight frown to her face but she did not comment on them as she returned to the food.

Soichiro glanced at the two in regret. Ever since that night six years ago, Sachiko had been unable to look at him in the same way again. Oh, she was just as outwardly dutiful and caring as before but a barrier had erected itself between them.

Sachiko had never forgiven him though she had attempted to do so. He sighed. It did not matter because Soichiro would never forgive himself either.

Despite the heavy cloud of grief that had lingered over their household, life had gone on in its familiar rhythm and Raito's disappearance had no longer been dwelled upon. Sayu stayed happily oblivious of her brother's true fate. They had told her he had died in an accident – just like the records the yakuza had forged stated.

And in a way, it was the truth.

Yagami Raito was dead and only Takamiya Raito remained.

_Still_, Soichiro thought as he stood up, musing over all Waraya-san had told him, _at least he is still alive._

His hand brushed against his jacket's pocket where the priceless hand-drawn picture of his son now lay.

* * *

_**First two weeks of January**_

While the Hyogo Prefectural Police occupied itself with dealing with the yakuza, the Kanto Alliance had been subtly giving them a hand. The three syndicates sent their unmarked unknown members – only small groups at a time – to cause a ruckus in the different bars and 'brothels' owned or protected by Tsuchinoko.

Under the 'influence' of alcohol, they would provoke them, at times forcing them to resort to violence (maybe even brandish their firearms) and then… the police would arrive and sweep them all up. Of course, their own undercover members would be arrested, but under lesser charges and would consequently be released after only a few days.

The Kobe yakuza did not get off so lightly however. Not only were guns illegal in Japan, but the law enforcement had been making use of any and all excuse to crack down the crime group and close its offices.

At other times, when no officer was nearby, the troublemakers would go to the nearest koban and accuse Tsuchinoko's thugs of harassment. The local police were all too happy to take down their statement and punish the 'perpetrators'.

All in all, the situation in Kobe and throughout the entire prefecture was slowly deteriorating. Manabe-san was losing support and a good number of the members were blaming the situation on his weak leadership and recklessness. Meanwhile, his most fervent supporters were, for the most part, struggling to maintain their share of the power and keeping their own underlings in line.

The situation had simply worsened when their shipment of armaments had been raided by the coastguard. Apparently, someone had tipped them off.

What was not known, however, was that that certain someone – or group of someones – had also left with half the cargo – taking it as his – their – due for warning them.

Overall, in these two weeks, the crises Tsuchikono's oyabun had been going through had just piled up one after another. He was simply unable to deal with them all. His underlings were not that understanding however. Dissatisfaction was slowly but surely spreading through the ranks. With his state of affairs in such a precarious position, Manabe-san evidently had neither the time nor the energy to spare on the little matter of a war.

Unfortunately for him, the Kanto Alliance had not forgotten that little matter. In fact, through Raito's sly orchestration, they were slowly eroding the younger Manabe's base away by bringing this more subtle form of warfare – some may call it siege – to the Kobe syndicate's door.

It was only a matter of time before the less loyal members jumped ship. Secured in Black Dragon's compound in Tokyo, Raito was quietly waiting for the appropriate moment to wheel them in.

* * *

_**January 17**__**th**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - MEMBERS - POLICING KIRIN AND ANTI-KIRA**

**Today, 8:56 PM - KIRIN**: _Busy ticking-off the fanatics, I see._

**Today, 8:58 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _It is all KIRIN-kun's fault. If KIRIN-kun would just keep me company, then I wouldn't have to waste my time with these sycophants._

**Today, 8:58 PM - KIRIN**: _And now you're blaming me for your boredom. With the amount of time you spend here, you make it seem as though you don't have a job._

**Today, 8:59 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _It hasn't been going well. I'm actually kinda depressed._

**Today, 8:59 PM - KIRIN**: _Depressed?_

**Today, 9:01 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Depressed. I thought I had finally hit progress but an insurmountable barrier has now presented itself._

**Today, 9:04 PM - KIRIN**: _Insurmountable? You? Don't make me laugh. Mere obstacles have never stopped you before._

**Today, 9:05 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _So glad my situation is amusing you._

**Today, 9:05 PM - KIRIN**: _Come on, show some energy. I don't have all night to wait for you to recuperate. If I were near you, I'd punch you for acting so stupidly._

**Today, 9:07 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _If KIRIN-kun was near me, I wouldn't be depressed. He is surely smart enough to help me solve my problem. In fact, I think KIRIN-kun would be much better than me in that domain._

**Today, 9:08 PM - KIRIN**: _Oh, stop sulking. My being there isn't going to help you at all, unless it is a fight you want. Besides, I just signed the next four years of my life away today._

**Today, 9:10 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _That really is too bad. I would have liked to enjoy KIRIN-kun's company some more._

**Today, 9:10 PM - KIRIN**: _Oh I'm sure you would…_

* * *

_**First three weeks of January**_

Despite their initial optimism, the task force had been unable to make much progress. The Organised Crime Department was one of the largest branches within the NPA and held a good number of idealistic young officers. There were at least three quarters of them who could have been Kira, yet none adequately fit Kira's profile. Some were too reckless, others not enough, and others still lacked the necessary intelligence.

Of course, a handful of these qualities could be concealed, so only a small amount was eliminated from the list of suspects. This left them with sixty-eight officers – a rather discouraging notion. Still, they pursued on. L had thought of asking another country to send some agents to tail them but he knew none would comply. Every world leader has been frightened off by Kira.

As a result, they now found themselves at an impasse. Any member of the Japanese task force would easily be recognised by the other officers if they were to tail them. Moreover, the five agents have all vehemently opposed the use of spying devices on their co-workers. L didn't protest too loudly at their disapproval. Had they agreed, it would still have been practically impossible for them to monitor all these men at all times.

L, for his part, did make some interesting discoveries. It had taken another week but finally, the FBI had finished going through their extended list of profiles and had sent the documents to L.

The first thing he had noticed in the files was one little inconspicuous inconsistency.

"Waraya, are you certain Raye did not know a thing about Etsuko's connection with the yakuza?"

"Of course, why are you asking?"

He had to make sure. "Apparently, the FBI's files said he had submitted all the information here," he waved the file, "himself, and it seems his report has not been touched since."

Her eyes had bugged.

The conclusion he had arrived at was quite obvious. "Kira has hacked into the FBI's database to make sure he had a valid excuse to kill Etsuko."

Because no one else could have done so. Not even the director – because although Kira had controlled his actions, the man lacked the necessary computer skills for such a task.

The list of suspects had then been narrowed down again, but only three men's names were removed. Hacking skills were not abilities one would boast about within the police station. Thus, they could only eliminate the rare few who were absolutely incompetent in front of a computer.

However, this clue had required further investigation. It was always possible that Kira had left some traces and if they were any, L had been certain he would find them.

Alas, this new course of action had been far easier said then done. Unknown to him, the FBI had decided to upgrade their system and he could not even get past the front gate. Like a mere amateur, the genius had tripped over the very first security measure and alerted the American agency of his trespassing.

He immediately had to retreat.

Such a failure perfectly explained L's sour mood, even a week after the event. It was the first time he had to withdraw from a confrontation with his tail between his legs. It was quite humiliating that someone had managed to so thoroughly best him.

It was why L had spent the following days curled up on the couch by the window, pouting and gorging himself on sweets – while the task force was hard at work. Next to him, he had placed his laptop, impatiently awaiting his – friend's? - return.

A week back, Kirin had managed to distract him from his depression for a bit, but he could only keep him company for so long. Thus, all he was left with were the idiots that populated the forum. It was quite annoying. Staring depressingly out the window, L rested his sulking face on his bent knee, one arm wrapped around his shins. His other hand kept reaching out for the scrumptious strawberry cake placed at his computer's side, not caring one ounce about the crumbs peppering his cheeks.

"Ryuuzaki, I have talked with the FBI and they refused to let you, I cite, 'traipse around in their system after Kira has already caused such a mess in it already'." Watari told him.

L let out a small grumble and stuck the piece of desert into his mouth. He had not expected anything else, but he could always hope.

"However, I did find out that this new program of theirs has been created by Yotsuba and has been sold to various agencies around the world. It is the one I talked to you about months ago."

The detective scrunched his face together, thinking. _Mentions about a new program -?_

_Ah yes._

But he had held absolutely no interest on the software as he already had his own and had immediately dismissed it from his mind.

From his seat a few feet down, Yagami spoke up. "Oh, you're talking about the one Kirin invented? It is quite efficient and rumoured to be unhackable."

L's mouth widened in shock and the fork he had been moving to his hungry mouth fell down on the floor. He did not even notice the lost piece of sweet in his disbelief.

And then, a slow wide smile made its way onto his lips and he gave out his first stream of laugher in years.

Watari stared at him, completely flabbergasted, while the task force did not dare comment.

_Oh Kirin! I should have known it was you._

* * *

_**January 27**__**th**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - MEMBERS - POLICING KIRIN AND ANTI-KIRA**

**Today, 11:23 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun. What do you think of L?_

**Today, 11:25 PM - KIRIN**: _Why this all of a sudden?_

**Today, 11:25 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _You've always made your opinion on Kira pretty clear – at least in the way he influences the world – but what about L? Besides bringing up their similarities in our first discussion, KIRIN-kun has never breached the subject again._

**Today, 11:28 PM - KIRIN**:_ You mean we've never breached the subject. Well, L is just as much of an idea as Kira. Although they seem to represent two complete opposites, I do not doubt that they are fundamentally the same. Both are striving for their ideal of justice and willing to go to great lengths in order to achieve it. However, one seems to at least be 'working' with the law._

_And there lies the difference. One is approved by the system, while the other is going against it. However, if Kira does win, he will become the system and L will be the rebel._

_They are two ideas opposing each other; one for change, the other for constancy; and I believe they both have far too much power in their hands to be allowed to decide the fate of the world._

_Let the masses deal with it, I say, but then… can they?_

**Today, 11:29 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _What about L as a person?_

**Today, 11:35 PM - KIRIN**: _I do not know enough about him to make a judgement._

**Today, 11:35 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Surely KIRIN-kun has formed an opinion._

**Today, 11:38 PM - KIRIN**: _Why so eager? If you want the truth, I do not really care about who he is. He simply stands for justice and I sincerely hope that justice will win._

--

_**But which one?**_

* * *

_**January 28**__**th**__** 2004**_

Raito knelt on the platform they have erected at the back of the washitsu for this occasion. A white cloth had been placed over it and on the wall, large banners proclaiming the different syndicates were held – most prominent being Black Dragon's and Viper's. Facing him was Manabe Ichirou, also kneeling down.

Sitting in seiza before the other three walls, the bosses of all the various subgroups watched the event with anticipation. Today would formally commemorate the alliance between their two syndicates. A blood brotherhood would be sworn over an elaborately poured sake cup.

It had taken some time to get to this point, as they have all waited until the long-anticipated collapse of Tsuchinoko.

On the eighteenth, the Kobe group had held their koto hajime, the ceremony their oyabun had delayed in light of recent events. In this most sacred girikake, the members were supposed to swear fealty to their boss and give him their compliments for the season. In return, the leader would formally present them with the gang's policy for the coming year.

However, like any girikake, a fee must be paid for the honour of attending. Due to his current lack of funds, Manabe had unwisely decided to raise the cost. Outraged, many of his subordinates have simply had enough and rebelled. They left the group and joined Viper under the elder brother's leadership. Ichirou-san's ascension ceremony had been held the day before.

And now, they would formalise their bond, with Raito stepping in for his adoptive father. Despite his role as a proxy, he knew Ichirou-san would always come to his aid when needed. This last month, they have planned and conspired together; they have been the force that had crushed the largest organisation in Japan by stealing half of its members – a third of its subgroups.

They were brothers-in-arms and now in blood.

Takamiya-sama was but a distant figurehead in this matter.

It was everything Raito could have ever hoped for – true power in the underworld that did not stem from his adoptive father.

Voice loud and clear, the sakazuki ritualist started chanting. Raito made sure to keep his back straight and his bearing proud. He would not let the observers doubt his worth. Never again.

Fukuda and his hanger-ons – though they looked irate – did not make a move.

Slowly, with deliberately large movements, the elder man started pouring the sake into the two white cups, making sure to fill them to the brim – to symbolise their equal partnership. The drinks were brought to them on a small wooden trays and placed on the small table between them Catching his eyes, Ichirou-san smiled and as one, they drank to their bond, to their – friendship?

They both took a sip before exchanging them. As soon as white porcelain cups were emptied of their content, they were wrapped in paper and put away in their kimono. The men then clasped one another's hands and the ritualist immediately declared the completion of the ceremony.

Cheers of congratulation followed and the different guests one by one advanced to offer their own 'words of wisdom'. Behind him, Ryuk was laughing.

"You have done well Raito." That soft commanding voice that he could – would – never forget pierced through him like an arrow.

The chatter died down at once. As one, all the room's occupants lowered themselves to the ground. Sitting in the seiza position, they all bowed down their head in greeting.

Followed by his four bodyguards, Takamiya-sama stood by the entryway just as authoritative and unyielding as before. The cane his fingers were clenched tightly around was the only sign of his brush with death.

"Takamiya-sama," Raito murmured in return, making sure to keep his eyes on the tatami flooring. "We did not expect you back. Had I – we known, we would have waited a bit longer for the ceremony." His nails were digging into the palm of his left hand. The other reached into his kimono and retrieved the cup.

The oyabun let out a hearty chuckle. "I made a quick recovery." Footsteps approaching him. A hand on his shoulder. "Rise, my son." He said after relieving the seventeen-year-old of the sakazuki. "Let me look at you."

Trying desperately to control his trembling, he followed the Black Dragon's leader's orders and got to his feet. His gaze stayed focused on the straw mats however.

His earlier jubilance had completely drained out of him.

"You have done brilliantly in my absence. I could not be prouder." Takamiya-sama turned to the – _unwelcome _– audience. "And let me take this occasion to formally declare Takamiya Raito as my heir." Like a ripple, murmurs followed the announcement. Raito did not react to the news. "As you all know, Katsuo –" he spat the name out like a vile poison "– has been disowned and expulsed from the group. The same fate awaits any who dare place the Black Dragon in danger again."

He then turned towards Ichirou-san who had been calculatingly following the proceedings. "And may I now offer my sincere congratulations, Manabe-san. May you lead your group to prosperity and may our alliance flourish with it."

"Thank you Takamiya-san." He responded. "It is wonderful to see you on your feet. We have not expected you back until next week, at the earliest."

"The gods must have been with me then." He turned away. "We will talk more tomorrow. The journey back has tired me. Come Raito, we have much business to discuss."

"Yes Takamiya-sama."

Like an obedient pet, the youth followed the oyabun out of the room, his bangs covering his shameful eyes. He did not see, but felt Kohashi's sharp gaze on him. The chatter started up again as soon as the door was closed and Raito dared not contemplate their words. The trip was conducted in silence, both parties deep in thoughts – or lack of thoughts.

As soon as they reached the private wing, Takamiya-sama ordered his guards to leave. His free hand gripping tightly on the teenager's shoulder, he steered his adoptive son into the nearest room and slammed the door behind him. A click to signify the lock.

Immediately, a tongue pushed its way into Raito's unresisting mouth. He let it ravage it, mark its territory anew. He knew the ritual, had been through it so many times already.

Strong hands held him in place on the wall – the cane had clattered to the floor. And although he was certain he could fight the weaker older man off him, Raito dared not. Takamiya-sama was more powerful than him – in every way imaginable and would always remain so.

All he could do was submit, submit and let himself be defiled and used. There was no place for pride in his situation – it had been stripped from him, like everything else years ago. His legs shook – from apprehension of the imminent degradation and from the man's weight. Because he had released his cane, the oyabun was half-gripping onto Raito for support while the only thing holding the youth up was the wall. He could feel his knees buckle from the weight and all he wished for was to collapse on the floor.

But he was not allowed to take the man down with him.

Eventually, Takamiya-sama's wet tongue had satisfyingly tasted and plundered Raito's mouth and adequately bruised his soft lips. It then left for new-old territories to reclaim. The smooth skin of the youth's slender neck was not spared as his sharp teeth nibbled its way down. Between each bite, he would lovingly murmur Raito's name and a myriad of praises.

The teenager simply closed his eyes at the onslaught – desperately wishing he could be deaf and completely numb as well. At least Ryuk was not here.

The shinigami was never present to witness his defilement and for that, he was thankful.

Suddenly, the hand that firmly held onto his slim waist started fumbling with the chord of his haori. The intricate knot was pulled and twisted, and finally under the continuous attack, it unravelled. Taking a deep breath, the elder man's lips finally left his collarbone after one last wet lick and he let go of Raito.

"Undress." His order was slurred in the mist of his lust but Raito could never confuse that one word.

Forcing a sweet smile onto his aching lips, he shrugged off the silk haori and let the soft material tumble down, their organisation's crest displayed prominently on its back. There was no need to carefully fold back the expensive garment. He should not leave his adoptive 'father' waiting.

Neither playing coy nor bold, he mechanically untied the straps that held the grey hakama together. As soon as the knot was let loose, the encumbering trousers fell to the ground, on top of black jacket.

It seemed he had taken too long though because as soon as he had it taken off, Takamiya-sama's forceful hands decided to hurry him along. They quickly tugged off obi and didn't bother with the kimono at all. With the sash gone, access to Raito's flesh was practically unrestricted.

The brunet could barely refrain himself from shaking. That month and a half of virtual freedom had spoiled him.

But he had to act, he had to react or else Takamiya-sama would notice something was wrong and then –

He opened his eyes. Forcing all his disgust into a back corner of his mind, he resolutely reached down for the elder man's erect manhood.

He would survive this, as he had all the times before.

Takamiya-sama stopped his hand midway. "Not now, my sweet. Let me worship you in length. It has been too long."

Slowly, the two stumbled onto the bed. Raito fell on his back, the kimono now completely opened, the long hem twisted up around his leg.

From above him, the oyabun smiled predatorily. "Oh. You look positively debauched my sweet little angel." He closed the 'loving' statement with another possessive kiss. This time, the teenager obliged himself to meet him in kind and engage that dominating tongue into a languorous dance.

He hated the feel of that slimy invader within the sanctity of his mouth but then, no part of him was his own. Not since _that_ night.

Meanwhile, the elder man's left hand was slowly toying with his most sensitive – _disgusting, shameful_ – areas and Raito could not help but react to the gentle, playful – _utterly mortifying_ – ministration. Slowly, he felt his boxers being tugged down.

And then, an intruding finger breached his hole.

His entire body tensed up and he froze for a moment. An insistent hand tugged on his hair and he immediately gave the oyabun an apologetic kiss.

"Oh! Raito – you have no idea how much I missed you," he said between pants.

Despite the glazed adoring expression he sported, Raito was inwardly panicking. No. He could not take this now. He was not mentally prepared for it.

Not now.

"Fa – father." He gasped out as he felt the finger wiggle inside him. He wanted to squirm. To die. "Are you sure you've healed enough –" A wince. "– for this?"

The oyabun chuckled and trailed another series of kisses on his chest only to give his nipples more attention, alternating his suckling between the two.

Another finger joined the first.

_No. NO!!_

"Father? Is yo – your wound healed enough? How about I –" he licked his lips temptingly, "– we do something else," shudder, "this time?"

He could force himself, next time, when he was ready. But not now, not so soon.

"If you wish." And the two fingers were gone. Raito could have collapsed in relief. But he did not and instead bent down to engulf his adoptive father's length in his mouth. He hated this, hated himself for proposing it, hated how much it took out from his dignity but he did it.

Slowly, mischievously, sensuously, he skilfully teased every ounce of pleasure he could from the man. For every twist of his tongue, ever doting little nibble, he felt his self-respect shatter to the floor. So much of that control he had regained in that month and a half was disintegrating away.

He had spoiled himself in his adoptive father's absence.

He had forgotten his place here, where his body served only to fulfill another's desire.

Takamiya-sama pulled the soft locks of his hair tighter as he approached climax.

When it came, Raito swallowed every bitter drop the oyabun gifted him, almost choking at the downpour. And then, a soft loving hand caressed his throat and his hair as though thanking him for so devoutly accepting his seed, his claim. Raito could not look up. His eyes stared fixedly on the soft mattress in order to hide the shame in their depths and the tears he could not cry – was unable to cry.

Gradually, the encroaching hand moved away from his head and back down to his neglected – _if only it could stay that way _– manhood.

He looked up _questioningly_ at the oyabun. All he saw was his satisfied – yet still lustful – look. At that awful moment, Raito immediately realised that it was far from over. Not for the night. And next time, he would be ridden like a bitch in heat – without any reprieve – his body once again – no, forever – soiled beyond reparation, evermore Takamiya Hiroto's property.

* * *

**A/N**: Don't hate me? runs away to hide

comes back out when the angry mob look calmer So yeah… you shouldn't really hate me. You see, there was another scene I actually wrote after this (planned it all out and all) but it simply destroyed the mood of the previous one. So be happy 'cause that one left you with a cliffie.

See… I'm nice!

Oh, and the angst's back. Yay?

Anyway, thank you guys so much for your reviews! I still can't believe that chapter generated so much response!! Well, we're getting to the point we've all been waiting for… Can't you all wait?

Looking forward to hear what you guys think of this.

_Recipe for insanity (thanks by the way) has accepted to beta/edit/proofread my old chapters for me. So expect progress in that domain soon._

_Edited 11/08/08_


	11. Of Markings and Identities

Chapter 10

Of Markings and Identities

* * *

_**February 28**__**th**__** 2001**_

When the bell he had attached to his front door rang, Horikan looked up from his workbench in surprise. He had not expected any clients today and had decided to spend the time teaching his apprentice how to appropriately take care of the tools of their trade. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he turned towards his young deshi.

"Gentaro-kun, go and greet our guest. I'll join you in a bit."

After executing a respectful bow, his young apprentice scampered away and out of the backroom. Meanwhile, Horikan carefully wrapped his needles and placed them back into their respectful boxes. When he closed the door behind him, his eyes bulged out in shock.

"Takamiya-sama," he immediately greeted the oyabun of the Black Dragon, though questions were running through his head.

While he had never met the man himself, he had heard numerous tales about him, imparted by his clients. Due to the long hours they had spent together, their tongues tended to get a bit loose and it was through them that he received most of his news about the underworld. It was strange for the oyabun to come here himself as the man had never desired to get a horimono and his advancing age would not permit such an endeavour now.

"Sensei." The man executed a slight bow with his head. "I wish to commission a horimono for my son, Takamiya Raito."

The elderly artist turned his head and his eyes were immediately drawn to the exquisite youth standing a few feet away from his father. He had never encountered such an attractive subject, such a flawlessly, perfectly balanced being. Elegance and pride seeped through the adolescent and he could not help but wonder how to best exploit such a perfect canvas.

His appraisal did not go unnoticed by the oyabun and Takamiya-sama immediately drew him out of it. "Should we discuss the design in more detail, sensei?"

Still too caught up in his thoughts, the horishi did not comment on this slight breach of protocol as they moved into his work room.

* * *

_**February 28**__**th**__** 2002**_

It had taken a year of discussions and compromises before the two had arrived to a design they both agreed upon. Takamiya-sama had insisted that Raito would not get a full body tattoo, and Horikan had not argued on that point. He had no intention of covering up that entire expanse of skin, only enhance it.

What they had disagreed on however, was the picture on the back. It seemed Takamiya-sama's stint in the West in his earlier years had influenced some of his views.

The man wanted wings! Wings on his son's back! Of all the stupid motifs, he had to go for ones stemming from Christianity. The tattoo master had tried to reason with him and had presented him with better, more worthy and _traditional_ designs. But the man wouldn't budge on that point.

He wanted wings and after months of arguments, the horishi had finally given in. There would be wings, but the motifs hidden within them were left to Horikan to decide. And that was where his masterpiece would flourish – through the play between the backdrop of the wings and the creatures hidden within them.

What was more disturbing however was the oyabun's reason behind the tattoo. Unlike the ones his other clients had decided to invest in – in order to prove their strength and dedication –, this one had been designed for the wearer, without his having much, or any, say on the matter.

During the first meeting, when he had asked the teenager for his opinion, Raito-kun had simply answered, "It is a gift from father. I trust that whatever you both come up with will be beautiful."

It had bothered Horikan to witness such a passive stance from such a – he was certain of it – prideful soul. However, since this meant he had one less person to argue with, he had merely placed the thought in the back of his mind.

But it wouldn't stay there. As the weeks passed, he gradually took notice of how utterly _obsessed_ the oyabun was with his adoptive son. It was disconcerting.

The tattoo artist had heard stories of how unemotional and aloof the kumicho was. Some even believed him to be asexual as he had never taken any mistresses or lovers. Even his relationship with his wife had been a cold and distant one. The two were practically never seen in each other's company, even after Katsuo-san's birth. And when she had died of pneumonia, many witnesses had whispered that the oyabun had not even reacted, _let alone shed a tear_.

Thus, Horikan's unease only grew at Takamiya-sama's insistence on how some of the motifs should be drawn out. It was as though he wished to brand his son, to put a mark of ownership on that youth's skin.

It was unsettling but in fear of losing his subject, Horikan had not commented on it and had buried his malaise deep away. But now, it could no longer be ignored.

He had seen how keenly the yakuza's eyes had followed Raito-kun, especially when he had been disrobing. His pupils had traced the youth's every move, every flex of muscles, the sharp contour of his skin. Horikan himself would readily admit that Raito-kun was an exquisite specimen of the human race. He had grown even more so since he had seen him a year ago, but the horishi was appraising him through artist's eyes – not a father's.

And then, there were the markings already branded upon the youth's skin. He had frowned at seeing the scars on one so young – especially the traces lashes have left on his back. Nevertheless, the disfigurements that had drawn his eyes were of a less permanent nature. The only lasting damage they would leave was to the psyche. Hickeys, scratch marks and a series of healing bruises could be found at strategic locations throughout the teenager's body.

And all signs pointed towards his father as the perpetrator.

This realisation greatly unnerved the old man. That a man like Takamiya-sama could be so fallible to the pleasure of the flesh…

He pitied Raito-kun. He really did.

When he had first met him, he had seen the reservoir of potential the youth possessed. But now, after realising what he had been through, it saddened him that his masterpiece would be but another chain tying the youth to his undeserving fate.

However, there was one gift he could bestow upon the teenager.

The design he had outline may serve to anchor Takamiya-sama's claim on Raito-kun's body, but it in no way held his spirit prisoner.

Having finished outlining the drawing freehand, he placed the cap back on the felt tip pen and clipped the small group of needles, all arranged in a single row to the long steel handle. His left hand carefully spread the back of his canvas' skin and he rested the shaft of his tool on his thumb. Each time his right arm moved forward, the group of needles – as one – were inserted into the skin.

Raito-kun never even twitched.

Though the outline would show the youth's state of subjugation, the shading and colouring would bring an entirely new meaning to the picture when completed. The creatures would shine through in all their glory, still fighting against their fate, despite being on the verge of defeat.

Horikan could not bear seeing his work of art disgracefully represent the oppression and repression of the teenager's nature. When he had first met him, he had seen Raito-kun's potential, he had seen his greatness. He could have been the very epitome of a god of death and his lethal beauty would shine through in his masterpiece.

* * *

He felt the needle going in and in and in. Constantly poking into his tender skin. It was irritating, slightly painful. It was perfectly bearable.

If only it wasn't for the meaning behind this simple torture.

Raito had survived the whip, had felt sting of hot lashes biting into his skin and drawing blood. He knew pain. He knew the permanence of those marks, even the humiliation of being at another's mercy.

He knew it all so why couldn't he simply _bear_ this passive destruction to his dignity – as it was being ripped apart, piece by piece, inch by steady inch of skin?

For a year now, he had known it would happen. Though he had retreated into a state of numbness in the weeks preceding his first visit, he had been alert enough to have known his fate. He had known he would be branded like a cattle, marked as Takamiya-sama's most precious property, but he had pushed the event away, resolutely ignored it. His mind couldn't have handled the thought of this further degradation at the time.

But now, the day of reckoning had come and his psyche wasn't any more ready than it had been a year ago. He may have accepted his role in life – and in regards to Takamiya-sama – but this, _this_ for some reason, he had trouble grasping.

It wasn't as though he had to participate like in –

No, he simply lay on the tatami matt – _merely in his boxers_ –, and let the needles tear away at his person. It was that simple. _It isn't as though your body belongs to you anymore_, his mind bitterly reminded him.

_Shut up._

Such an – _insignificant_ – conception of ownership no longer mattered anyway. How could it – when he had nothing left? Fighting it – _for his freedom_ – would have been useless: he had learned that long ago, in his first few weeks with the yakuza. All he could do was work with the system, submit to it and hope to survive with as much of his self intact as possible.

_Not working._

If his adoptive father wanted his body, wanted him in his bed, who was Raito to refuse him? How would fighting the inevitable be of any use? It wasn't as though he had any power or right of his own. All he had were the scraps the oyabun threw him and he should be grateful for that. It could have been worse. He could have been –

Now at least, he could slowly try to build something for himself. His deal with Namikawa had – _somehow _– pulled through. He still had it in him.

And then, he was the cherished, beloved, despoiled son/lover/property of Takamiya-sama. The oyabun _valued_ him at least. He could work with that. He could live with that.

He could suffer for that. He had resigned himself to his fate.

This was his only path in life, his only route to survival. There was nothing else for him. Of course, fool that he was, he hadn't understood it. It had taken him months to realise such an obvious _fact_. Raito had never felt so obtuse in his life. After all, hadn't that been what he had realised when he had killed Mitsui-san? To follow the yakuza precepts and _survive._

Despite the change in their relationship, nothing had changed. All he _could_ do was submit to Takamiya-sama's rules and work with them, as he had before the –

And work with them.

Now, he simply had to _force_ himself to understand, acknowledge this stark piece of reality again.

A little tattoo – _large, spanning your entire back and maybe more_ – did not matter. It simply reaffirmed his position – _which you already knew_. It was funny in a way. In the past, tattoos had been used to mark criminals. Full body tattoos had evolved from this barbaric punishment as the various crooks would use art to cover up the degrading sign.

Tattoos thus became associated with the outcasts of society, with the yakuza.

Takamiya-sama was aiming to brand him as his through this tattoo.

But then, was he not both?

He was a criminal and he belonged to the oyabun. The tattoo perfectly illustrated his two sins. There was nothing to anguish about. He simply had to learn to accept the fact and move on – _move on_.

Making sure to bury his head deeper into the crook of his arms, he closed his eyes and inwardly suppressed his sob. All he had to do was – once again_ (how many times must he go through this pitiful state of denial?) _– accept that he was no longer his own person.

It was such a _simple_ concept. Why could he not simply _accept_ it?

* * *

_Be it known, then, that there are two ways of contending, one in accordance with the laws, the other by force; the first of which is proper to men, the second to beasts. But since the first method is often ineffectual, it becomes necessary to resort to the second. A Prince should therefore understand how to use well both the man and the beast … and that the one without the other has no stability._

* * *

_**February 14**__**th**__** 2004**_

Wrapped only in a yukata, Raito casually flipped through the reports Takamiya-sama had left him. It may be a bit cold to wear such a flimsy garment but the complex was heated and there was no need for him to put up a show of being presentable today.

His adoptive father had gone to Kyoto early this morning and he would probably be back by Sunday night. The group's activities had slowed down ever since the oyabun's return and Raito highly doubted he would have to leave his sanctuary today.

For once, he was alone.

Raito sighed. With his adoptive father back in Tokyo, while many things had returned to normal, numerous others had changed. Seeing as he had acknowledged the youth as his heir, the oyabun had decided to include him in most of the organisation's politics and businesses. Raito no longer stood in the background nor worked in the shadows. Instead, he was involved everywhere, always under the constant watch of the older man.

It certainly hadn't been what he had asked for when he had desired more power and recognition within the yakuza.

But that was not the main reason for his increased participation. It seemed that their long separation had only made his adoptive father more voracious. He was insatiable in bed – despite his advancing age – and was unwilling to part from the brunet. Thus, he dragged him along everywhere, if only under a different excuse.

At least, his growing experience and influence were useful, unlike the other aspects of this constant supervision. Raito had very little free time left to himself nowadays, whether it was because he was catering Takamiya-sama's whims or under his bodyguard's increased attention. The brunet was uncertain of the cause behind this change. In the last two years, Makoto had slowly, though inexplicably, turned more lenient and this sudden reversal alarmed Raito.

Hence, he dared not act out of line and the time he could afford on his role as Kira had consequently been vastly reduced. Already, repercussions could be seen as he had murdered a few lesser criminals and he was deadly afraid his limited research would cause him to make a mistake. He would never be able to forgive himself if he did.

"Raito, isn't it time?" Ryuk asked him, having finally stopped juggling his plastic models of apples.

"Of course, thank you for reminding me."

He forced a smile onto his face, though it was wasted on the shinigami. His identity as Kira was not the only one that had suffered from his limited free time. His work as Kirin had to be delayed in every aspect. Luckily though, the program had already been completed and the individual modifications certain agencies had asked for could be delayed.

Anti-Kira was not so understanding however.

The seventeen-year-old knew full well how his constant absences annoyed the other man. Still, he would never endanger his life and position for some witty banter and – friendly? – company. It was not worth the risk.

But, he would indulge the man when he was certain of his privacy. It was the least he could do.

For some time now, Anti-Kira had been pestering him on some matter of importance. Raito would admit he was curious about what had that unshakable man so _jittery_. His queries and posts had turned into a peculiar direction lately. However, as this sudden change had coincided with Takamiya-sama's return, the teenager had not spared it much thought.

He would find out soon enough after all.

Without rushing, he carefully placed the stack of documents in three distinct piles a bit further away on his desk: those unread, those that would need more thought or research and those that looked perfectly fine. By his side, Ryuk was impatiently fidgeting.

"C'mon Raito, stop stalling!"

The human paid him no heed. Closing the other windows he had been working on, he moved his mouse down and opened a new one. He encountered no trouble when hacking into the third block of the third section of the Funny Dish server. Though Anti-Kira had left him a five minute window, it had taken him only a few seconds of rapid typing.

As soon as he gained access, the entire screen went white.

_How dramatic_, Raito thought amusedly. Knowing the man's self-righteousness, he was in no way surprised that he had chosen the colour of purity for the backdrop of their conversation.

It would nicely contrast with the constant sinful blackness of Kira's forum.

Without warning, Ryuk shoved his face next to his. Raito frowned but moved his head to the left to give the death god more space. With his eyes bulging out and intently scrutinizing the millions of pixels, the creature looked as though it wanted to discover some alien sign in that infinite whiteness.

Then, one by one, the letters appeared.

'_KIRIN-kun, I have recently learned you have created the newest software currently used by investigative agencies around the world. I have a proposal for you I am certain would work to both our advantages. Would you like to work for me?'_

Raito stared at the screen in shock. _WHAT THE HECK WAS ANTI-KIRA THINKING? _His hands clenched into a fist as he barely refrained himself from simply leaving the other man hanging.

There was a reason he kept to the forum. He vastly enjoyed the anonymity it offered. Though he liked Anti-Kira and truly valued him, he did not want _any_ of his identities to mix. Moreover, there was no way a yakuza, a criminal would willingly meet an upholder of the law.

It was suicidal.

_But aren't you willing to let yourself be caught?_

_Only if they find proof._

Behind him, the shinigami doubled over in laugher, both arms clutching onto his emaciated stomach.

"Hehe Raito. What are you going to say to _that_?"

* * *

L was impatiently fidgeting in his seat. He had been anticipating this moment for more than a week now. He had the right to be eager, even excited. He nervously nibbled on his thumb. It was a good thing he had sent the task force home for the weekend as they would have been staring at him perplexingly, just as they had during his last his involuntary show of _emotion_.

In order to secure true privacy for their first meeting – not in person but still – he had even asked Watari to leave him alone for the day. L was 97 percent certain the elder man did not know what to make of his recent behaviour and L had no intention of enlightening him to the cause.

His meeting with Kirin would be his own little secret. When the programmer accepts, L would gladly share the news with the others, but at the present moment, he was feeling a little selfish.

And there was absolutely no reason for Kirin to refuse. L had calculated the chances and he knew they were minimal, barely .5 percent. He knew the other man was unhappy in his new job. He had seemed so much less enthusiastic in his latest – and irritatingly _infrequent _– posts. That he would want to meet and work with Anti-Kira was another given.

After all, neither of them had ever encountered another on the same level as themselves until now. Their banter attested to the fact; the immediate bond they had formed on certain issues was yet another proof. Why would Kirin ever want to let such an opportunity escape?

L was convinced his partner in crime was just as curious as he.

And then, there was the entire Kira issue. The detective knew of Kirin's own distaste for the mass murderer's actions though the programmer had never stated it out loud. It was simply _too _obvious if you examined his sentences closely. Of course, Kirin wasn't L's fan either, but the investigator preferred it that way.

He already had the world's law enforcement at his beck and call, he did not need another crony and Kirin was far too clever to be reduced to such a role. Although L hated it when police officers questioned him, as they were too slow to follow his reasoning, he had never truly discouraged intelligent inquiries, though they were quite rare. Misora herself had been one of the last 'worthy ones'.

Kirin, however, Kirin was in an entirely different category. L had never met such a fascinating creature; one so conflicted and _real_. There was a depth to the man that simply drew the detective in and L never got bored drawing him out of that hole. Kirin could weave words together better than the greatest politician's speech-writers and he could practically manipulate any situation to his advantage.

L constantly witnessed that when the programmer played the devil's advocate. And always, there was a profundity to his word, a hidden secret because Kirin never revealed everything. It was this mystery – among so many others – that pulled L in and he was desperate to unravel Kirin in all his forms.

Not only that, but he was his one true rival. He was the only person whom L would ever concede defeat, the only one he would not mind losing against. Whereas Kira was a worthy enough opponent, L was determined to crush that psychopath.

Kira could never measure up to Kirin.

Whereas Kira had answered L's taunt and revealed many of his powers to him, Kirin kept eluding him without even trying. Two months back, L had been unable to find any traces of the man from the forum. He similarly had never managed to tease any personal information out of him. Anything he learnt about Kirin was usually volunteered by the man, such as his new employment.

And his rival's brilliant mind simply went without saying. Against all expectations, Kirin had actually made L question some of his most stubborn views, just as he had done to various members of the forum. It was disconcerting, but then, everything about Kirin somewhat was.

Thus, when L had found out that that annoying impenetrable perfect program had been conceived by his rival, he had not pressed further on the matter. He would not be able to win on such grounds and had immediately ceased his hacking attempts.

But that did not mean he had given up. No, all he needed to do was recruit Kirin. Such an alliance could only be beneficial to them both. L would finally get to meet his rival – and if the programmer wished to remain anonymous, L would let him… for now – and he would get to share his greatest passion with Kirin by stopping the most nefarious criminal mastermind together.

The only hitch may be his identity but L wasn't too worried about that. After all, Kirin himself had attributed his ambivalent opinion on 'L' to his not knowing the detective personally. Being L may not work to his favour, but it would not work to his disfavour and that was all that mattered.

Finally, the clock on his monitor turned to 5:00. From his own position on the server, L restlessly squirmed. Seconds later, Kirin joined him.

_Just as quick as I thought…_

L did not bother with pleasantries before bluntly typing out his proposal.

His eyes stared fixedly on the screen as he keenly waited for a response.

Ten seconds…

Twenty five.

Fifty-five.

A minute and a half.

_What's taking so long?_ His teeth sunk onto his thumb. A coppery taste invaded his mouth. He paid it no heed.

Three minutes and forty-seven seconds.

'_I am sorry Anti-Kira. Despite how interesting your proposal sounds, I cannot renege on my previous obligations.'_

And then he was gone.

L stared at the screen in shock waiting for his rival to reappear.

Another five minutes passed and still no sign from Kirin. Annoyed but resolute, L left the server and called his assistant. "Watari, bring up the two tortes from the pastry downstairs – Orange Bavarian and Black Forest –, the Opera Cake from down the street…" He chewed on his nail, thinking. "Don't forget the chocolate mousse and the tiramisu. Oh. And the strawberry cheesecake from the café three blocks down would be good. If you have time, go to the supermarket and get the usual supply. I'll call you if I think of anything more."

"L?"

"Go." He ordered.

As soon as the connection closed, L left his seat by his laptop and stared out of the window. _You aren't going to escape me so easily Kirin. Not for such a weak excuse._

No, he would somehow hunt down his rival and force him to accept his offer. If there was one thing L was known for besides his intelligence, it was his stubbornness.

Except for that one time when he had been stumped by Kirin's firewall, he had never given in – and especially not without a fight.

But first, he would indulge himself in his supply of sweets. There was no way L would lose in a war of attrition.

* * *

"Raito," Ryuk whined, "why did you reject his offer? Shouldn't you have waited to see what he wanted? Wouldn't it be fun to work with Anti-Kira anonymously? Hyuk. Hyuk."

"Impossible, I know what he wants."

"Huh?" The shinigami turned his head upside down.

"He's –" _There's only one possibility, now that I think about it. _"– L."

The creature's eyes widened in shock. "Anti-Kira is L?"

Raito leaned back on his chair and almost slumped down, but refrained himself in time. Instead, he crossed his arms. "Yes," his smile was faint, troubled. "Surprising, no? But the clues were there all along. His bold uncompromising statements designed to test and infuriate his opponents and his own views on justice corresponded to the attitude L projects to the world. "However, what is most telling is his recent interest in me."

"Y'mean he suspects you are Kira?" The sudden grin on the shinigami's face was quite disturbing. It looked as though he was expecting eventual bloodshed.

Raito was all too happy to destroy his delusions.

"No, not Kira, _Kirin_. L is among the few private detectives and agencies that have shown absolutely no interest in my program, which would explain how long it took for him to make the connection. The greatest clue, though, is his recent inquiries. He was trying to find out my opinion on L and on the progress of the Kira case, among other things."

Raito tilted his head up and looked at the cream ceiling as he quietly contemplated the situation. "It seems as though he may have somehow made a link between Kira and the FBI's database. Guess I made a mistake with Steve Mason. He probably wants to hire Kirin to track down whatever traces Kira has left there." He shrugged his shoulder. "It matters not. At least the investigation is proceeding." Seemingly content, Raito returned to the papers he had set aside.

Ryuk was not so easily pacified. "So you're not going to do anything about this?"

"Why should I?" The youth raised an elegant eyebrow as he looked at the death god. "It is good that he is making progress."

"But Rai"

"Shush."

* * *

_**February 17**__**th**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS KIRA'S SHRINE GOD'S POLICIES**

**14/02/04, 7:32 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun is a coward._

**14/02/04, 9:11 PM - ETERNAL666**: _Huh? Guess those two aren't so cosy-cosy anymore._

**15/02/04, 10:58 AM - KIRA-FOLLOWER36**: _It must be Kira's will. Perhaps KIRIN has finally seen the Light._

**15/02/04, 11:10 AM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Doubt it. Anyone have any idea what they disagreed about? _

**15/02/04, 11:11 AM - BUBBLEDOOR**: _You guys think this has to do with KIRIN's less frequent posts on the site? Perhaps that sinner has finally realised the light of Kira-sama's divinity._

**…**

**Today, 6:32 PM - KIRIN**: _ANTI-KIRA, congratulations on your clever strategy to 'draw me back'. Insult my honour, but I am _not_ avoiding you, even after our last exchange. I have no reason to do so. _

**Today, 6:33 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _You guys know what they have argued about?_

**Today, 6:33 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Then KIRIN-kun should not have left without hearing me out. Especially after giving me such a weak explanation._

**Today, 6:35 PM - KIRIN**: _I saw no reason to be tempted to stay. If I cannot help you, then you have no reason to divulge personal information to me._

**Today, 6:35 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _What if I were to tell you it is a fight for justice?_

**Today, 6:38 PM - KIRIN**: _Then it would be unjust of my part to renege on my contract._

**Today, 6:38 PM - BLACK-PROPHET**: _Just checked and their last post seems to be about a business meeting ANTI-KIRA had gone to at someplace only three blocks away from his office and the funny dishes he tried there. He talked about how nice the servers were and had invited KIRIN to try out the third section of the menu or something. You think they met in RL on the 14__th__? After all, KIRIN's next answer gave out only a day and time._

**Today, 6:39 PM - BLACK-CAT13**: _Guess it didn't go that well then._

* * *

_**February 23**__**rd**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS ACTUALITY ROT IN SOCIETY**

**Today, 5:17 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _What if KIRIN-kun were to give me a clue?_

**Today, 5:17 AM - KIRIN**: _ANTI-KIRA, do you ever know when to give up? I cannot violate my client's privacy for you, no matter your excuse._

**Today, 5:19 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Even for justice?_

**Today, 5:20 AM - KIRIN**: _Justice is such a broad term and can constantly be redefined according to the situation. Are you trying to imitate L and Kira here? I sense hypocrisy in your intentions…_

**Today, 5:21 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _If KIRIN-kun would simply put his ethics aside, he would be much happier. _

**Today, 5:25 AM – KIRIN**: _You think so?_

**Today, 5:26 AM – ANTI-KIRA**: _I know so._

--

_**Because you would be working for me. **_

--

_**You know nothing L.**_

--

**Today, 5:28 AM - KIRIN**: _I've had enough of this nonsense. If all our time is spent arguing on that issue, I may as well go back to bed._

**Today, 5:29 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Then you wouldn't join me here a bit longer?_

**Today, 5:30 AM - KIRIN**: _My father will kill me if he knew I was awake at this hour._

**Today, 5:30 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun does not seem to be the type to live with his parents._

**Today, 5:32 AM - KIRIN**: _Maybe, maybe not. You won't tease information out of me so easily._

**Today, 5:33 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _Ah… it was worth a try. I guess my interrogation was a failure then though perhaps I would fare better next time. Would you like to play a game?_

**Today, 5:33 AM - KIRIN**: _A game?_

**Today, 5:33 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _May I test your investigative abilities?_

**Today, 5:40 AM - KIRIN**:_ That sounds interesting._

**Today, 5:41 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun waited too long to answer to be sure of himself, but I will go anyway. If I were to give you a hypothetical situation…_

* * *

_**February 29**__**th**__** 2004**_

Eyes barely above the table, L was carefully analysing his prey. Delicate forms of multiple colors were staring back at him. At one corner, a plum blossom was carefully folded in on itself. Next to it lay a peach-like jelly. Small animals were grazing amongst this abundance of colour and L slowly licked his lips at the sight.

They all looked so delectable. Finally, unable to contain himself any longer, he grabbed the ume and bit half of it off. The second bite came barely a second later. He thoroughly licked his fingers and sucked all the sweet sugary taste from his digits.

The one thing he loved about being in Japan was the wagashi.

"L," Watari called out to him, "are you certain you want to involve Matt?"

"Yes." Without taking his eyes away from the confectionaries, he answered the elder man. "Despite his lack of interest in the matter, he _is_ third in line for my title. Now would be a good opportunity for him to use his skills."

Watari didn't say a word for a minute or so before he finally acquiesced. "If you say so. I'll mail him the software then."

Kirin was being incessantly uncooperative. Not only was he avoiding L, but because of that, Anti-Kira never got the chance to convince him to change his mind. Of course, whenever L tried to steer the conversation to his favour, Kirin would then threaten to leave which was perfectly unacceptable.

It had taken some quick thinking on the detective's part to keep Kirin with him, but he didn't regret it. After all, he had discovered his rival's amazing deductive skills in the process. He had always known of his intelligence but to see his reasoning in action was awe-inspiring.

It was like seeing an alternate version of himself, on the same level but going through an entirely different thought process. L could not help but wonder about what they would achieve if they ever joined abilities.

It only made L want Kirin more.

Still, the war was not going as planned and he was still unable to make any progress on the FBI's database. Only ten days ago, he had gotten Watari to buy him a version of the program under one of his numerous aliases.

He had tried it out on a spare laptop and even from within, he could see how complex and impenetrable it was. It would take him months – months he could not waste – to unravel it. Thus, his time was better spent on reorienting his investigation, pestering Kirin and leaving the task to Matt.

The computer whiz may solve it. And even if he didn't, L believed the experience would be well-worth it in the end. It would at least show the fourteen-year-old the possibilities that lay ahead of him, if only he applied himself.

But for now, L had to solve another dilemma. Seiobos or matsunoyuki. He did not know which sweet to eat next.

* * *

_**March 2**__**nd**__** 2004**_

"My employer would like to hire Kirin for a six-month project."

Reiji sighed but kept his friendly disposition. It seemed all he had been doing these last few months was run interference for Raito. While the youth was busy with the yakuza; the business man was dealing with all his potential 'suitors'.

He almost snorted at the thought.

Putting on a pleasant smile, he calmly gave the same answer to the elderly man. "I am afraid Kirin-san is not interested in working for anyone at the moment."

Walters-san raised a bushy eyebrow. "Really? I heard that he had recently signed a four-year contract. Moreover, Danuve-san is willing to pay him double the amount for only six months of his service. Kirin would not even have to reveal himself if he prefers staying in the dark."

The vice-president of sales barely kept his surprise at that. "Your sources are false. I heard of no such engagement."

"Then he may have made it without your knowledge."

Reiji let out a breath of exasperation, annoyed by these men's recurring requests. "Fine. I'll contact him about your offer, just like I had for any other, but don't expect any response." He took the card that had been handed out to him at the beginning of the meeting and slipped it into another folder.

The aging gentleman pushed his glasses back up and bowed. "Thank you for your time, Namikawa-san. Have a pleasant day."

"You too."

As soon as the door closed behind him, the executive ran a hand in through his hair in irritation. At moments such as these, he felt like he was Kirin's very own Watari. It certainly hadn't been what he had signed up for when he had accepted the youth's offer.

Still, he had never regretted it.

When he had joined Yotsuba, he had known exactly what he would be expecting: business politics, rivalries, backstabbing and promotions, all mixed with the company's affairs. He hadn't anticipated Raito. But really, who could have?

The program he had first left him had been an instant success within Yotsuba itself. The youth had been right: it had been beyond anything they had seen before. Many of his superiors pestered him about his programmer but Reiji had kept his lips sealed on the matter. It certainly helped that Yotsuba wanted to keep this efficient software to themselves. They didn't want to hand such a weapon to their rivals.

The problems started arriving with the second program. This one was designed for investigative agencies and thus, and many of their potential clients had been suspicious at the secrecy surrounding the creator. Now that Kirin had been revealed to them, the backslash had been just as terrible: they all wanted such an asset for themselves.

It was the one thing that somewhat disturbed Reiji.

The businessman had always valued efficiency above anything else but even he – despite his occasional depreciating thoughts – would never reduce another human to the level of a tool.

What he admired in Raito was his ruthlessness, his cunning and his manipulative ways, not the benefits he brought to him and the company.

Yet, the way the teenager constantly distanced himself when they were cutting too close to personal matters showed that he thought differently. Reiji did not like it. From what he could see, the youth's bodyguard didn't like Raito's self-depreciating attitude either.

Still, there was nothing he could do to change the situation. Raito was far too proud to let him meddle in his affairs and really, it was better to keep the relationship between a businessman and a yakuza cold and professional.

Such thoughts did not ease his worries however.

* * *

_**March 2**__**nd**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS MEMBERS POLICING KIRIN AND ANTI-KIRA**

**Today, 5:06 PM - KIRIN**: _ANTI-KIRA, I was pouring over old schoolbooks today and one particular poem struck me. I think you would be interested to hear it:_

_**Losing sight**_

_**O**__ver is the quester's reign_

_**L**__eft justice for regret_

_**L**__ost is the opportunity_

_**E**__vermore of friends bereft_

_**H**__ostage within his own domain_

* * *

_**March 2**__**nd**__** 2004**_

L's eyes bugged out at Kirin's message, the piece of opera cake frozen halfway between his mouth and the plate.

He read it and reread it and reread it. But all he saw was that one sentence that would appear if he read the poem from the side.

_**HELLO L**_

_**HELLO L**_

Kirin knew who he was. Kirin somehow knew, had found out (perhaps Anti-Kira had left too many clues… perhaps he had been too obvious in his requests…) and didn't care. In fact, Kirin was telling him to leave the matter alone and to simply concentrate on his investigation.

_That he had no intention of participating._

L did not know how to respond to such revelations.

* * *

_**March 3**__**rd**__** 2004**_

The door slammed opened with its usual ceremony. Loud footsteps stomped into his messy room, breaking a console along the way. Suddenly, but not unexpectedly, a hand grabbed his shoulder.

"C'mon Matt! Don't tell me you're still stuck with that damn ga –" Mello cocked his head to one side, surprised by the lack of beeping noises and of a game on the monitor screen. "Huh? What are you doing?"

"Some program L left me." The boy managed to mumble out through his cigarette.

"WHAT? L!?" He leaned closer to the monitor without paying any heed to his friend. "Why the heck would he want to ask you for anything?"

"Dunno. But it's an interesting program." Matt did not pause in his typing.

Huffing, the blondie stood back up. "Well, just you see! Next time, L's gonna ask for me!" And with that, he stomped back out of the room. His footsteps receded in the library's direction.

After expelling a stream of smoke from his lungs, Matt typed yet more data into the profiling section of the program.

It was truly an ingenious software. Though he had trouble imagining L having trouble with anything, he could understand why this one may be so troublesome. There were layers over layers and hidden within those layers themselves. It was all a mess of programming, but done so well Matt couldn't help but be impressed.

Just trying to unravel it may be more fun and challenging than his numerous games.

Maybe.

But what truly interested him were the features found within. It was the perfect space to store his own stuff and since this was a gift from L, there was no way Mello would ever try to mess with it.

Which was perfectly fine with Matt.

* * *

Raito stared incredulously at the list of criminals found in one of his users' computer. The deceased all had the strangest names and died in the most gruesome and unrealistic manners.

_**Druxias**__ – burning potion mixed with fire arrows_

_**Entorilx32**__ – beheaded_

_**Corvinell**__ – eaten by a direwolf_

_**Ssovnb**__ – stricken by lightning_

_**Hyvner**__ – transformed into a zombie_

…

And the list went on for another two hundred names or so. Because he had set his watchdog to monitor the different databases for unusual activity, it was no wonder that he had been alerted by this sudden increase of fatalities.

But then, he had not expected this.

All Raito could do was silently go through the catalogue of victims in shock, poise completely forgotten. He could not believe it. He simply could not believe it –

– that someone had actually used his program to profile _game characters_.

* * *

_**March 8**__**th**__** 2004**_

_Shit! Shit! Shit! I'm _so_ late!!_

Matsuda rushed his way under the extensive canopy but immediately slowed down at the bellboy's look of disapproval. Smiling sheepishly, he stopped his run and hurried dignifiedly into the Sheraton Miyako Hotel, his arm still tightly holding onto the doughnut box.

Well, it wasn't his fault for being so late! With L constantly switching hotels, Matsuda, being unfamiliar with the new territory, did not know all the prime locations for the coffee runs (though it was without the coffee since Watari's was much better).

Stopping for a moment to reorient himself and trying to remember where the elevators were, he scanned the room. In front of the foyer were sets of brown leather armchairs all symmetrically arranged around a footstool of the same material. On them, guests were in deep conversation.

_Nope, it wouldn't do to ask them._

Behind him, the revolving door swooshed open and he saw a youth and his – bodyguard? guardian? – come in.

He turned to talk to them when suddenly, he noticed the boy's oh-so-familiar traits.

"Takamiya-san, you do only have one hour this time."

Sharp features on a beautiful face; determined brown eyes methodically examining the room; soft perfectly combed brown hairs. He was the embodiment of Waraya's picture, of the chief's son.

Yagami Raito… He shook his head. No, the bodyguard had called him _Takamiya_. Standing a few feet from Matsuda was the kidnapped son of Yagami-san. He could not believe his eyes.

"I know."

Forgetting all his other duties, he hurried after the two men who were disappearing down a corridor. He could not believe it. He had to do something.

This was his chance to repay the chief for all his help. He had seen the anguish and regret in the older man's face when he had been telling them about Raito. He had felt his desperation. And now, Matsuda could help him out.

There was only one yakuza member with Raito-kun and it was the perfect occasion for a family reunion. It was like fate! Grinning, the police officer could already see it happening. A tearful reunion, apologies from both parties, but happy. And with L on their side – really, the man couldn't be heartless enough to not help them – the yakuza wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

And it'd all be thanks to Matsuda! He puffed out his chest in pride.

Sidling carefully next to the wall, he saw the two turn into a thin strip of dining area separated from the hallway by thin silver grids. They were overlooking the hotel's traditionally landscaped Japanese garden.

Slinking into the open rooms opposite to them, where larger tables were placed, Matsuda avidly followed Raito's movement. That was until he noticed the absence of the thug. It was already too late when the realisation hit because the yakuza's arm was wrapped around his neck, perfectly immobilizing him.

_Shit._

Sweat pooled over his temples.

"What are you doing, following Takamiya-san?"

"I – I –" Seeing the teenager closely looking over the two's interactions, he knew this occasion was as good as any to broach the subject. "I know your father Raito-kun! He's in this very hotel!"

The youth's eyebrows immediately narrowed. Matsuda gulped. That definitely was not the reaction he had been anticipating.

"The only father I have is back home."

"But what about Yaga –"

"That man is no father of mine." He replied coolly as he turned away. "Come Kohashi, we've wasted enough time already."

The yakuza reluctantly let him go at the order and Matsuda slumped down on the ground, rubbing his sore neck. _Damn it! Why did Raito have to act that way?_

Just before turning away, he gave the youth one last mournful glance and saw that he was occupied with talking to an older man with long black hair.

* * *

"You're late." Came L's monotone voice.

"I – I know." Matsuda told the room breathlessly as he placed the box of doughnuts – that looked a bit beaten up – on the coffee table. "But something happened. I –" Shaking his head, he immediately addressed the detective pleadingly. "Please, can you please hack into the hotel's surveillance system? There's something the chief must see!"

He pressed his hands together over his head in a sign of supplication.

"Matsuda!" Yagami-san reprimanded. "Ryuuzaki does not have the time for such nonsense."

"But – but Chief," he took a deep breath, "I saw your son."

The silence was so complete that you could have heard a pin drop.

After a few seconds, Matsuda impatiently started again, this time with more vigour. "I saw your son, Raito, in this hotel. He was with a yakuza, Kobayashi or something. I told him you were here but he wouldn't listen."

The police chief's expressions immediately closed up at those words. "Let's go back to work Matsuda."

It would have been the end of the matter had Watari not spoken up. "If you really want to see your son Yagami-san, I can easily give you a live feed of him. I have complete access to the hotel's cameras."

"Can – can you?" Then, as though realising what he had just uttered out loud, he immediately shook his head. "No. It's useless and I should concentrate on the investigation. There is nothing between us now."

"That may be so but wouldn't you like to see him one last time? Just to ease your heart about how he turned out?"

"I – I –"

"C'mon chief!"

"Do whatever you wish Yagami-san," L said, "just as long as you won't be distracted from your work afterwards."

"Then yes please." He bowed down his head. "Thank you so much Watari. Thank you."

"It's no problem."

Annoyed at the disruption Raito's appearance constantly caused, L turned back towards his own computer. After Kirin's message six days ago, L hadn't dared breach the subject of his recruitment again. In that one poem, he had made it very clear that Anti-Kira may lose his friend if he pursued that issue.

Perhaps involving Namikawa-san in their dispute had hit a bit too close to home for Kirin's comfort.

As for Kira, still no progress had been made. For the past month, the psychopath had started broadening out. He had executed criminals with less severe crimes than the ones with whom he had started off. He no longer refrained himself to serial killers and had started eliminating simple murderers who had escaped the judicial system. L was not surprised. He had expected Kira to take this course, had thought he would do it earlier even.

After all, this self-proclaimed god couldn't just let the smaller criminals run free. Since the bigger threats had now been eliminated, he could finally concentrate on the smaller nuisances. Slowly, Kira's grip on the world was increasing.

That, L simply could not allow.

"Awww… damn! It's really too bad we can't hear what they're saying!" Matsuda's loud voice broke through his musings.

Curious despite himself, L looked away from his laptop. All his men, except Watari who was back in the kitchen, were pressed near the television.

"Do you know who that man is that he's talking to? He doesn't really look like a yakuza."

Finally, unable to contain himself and unable to concentrate because of the viewers' – mainly Matsuda's – constant exclamations, L got up from his seat. He may as well find out what was so special about this Raito-kun.

His breath stopped as soon as he saw the screen. There, sitting calmly was an extremely attractive teenager that any parent would be proud to call his son. He was confident as he spoke and his eyes glittered with intelligence. Every aspect of his person screamed dignity and poise, from the way he held his chopsticks to the way he sat like an emperor on his throne. He had complete control over the situation even though his companion seemed about a decade older and more experienced than he.

But it wasn't the youth that stopped his heart.

It was the other.

"Namikawa…" he let out despite himself. Everyone looked at him.

Namikawa Reiji. Yotsuba's vice-president of sales, Kirin's contact.

And suddenly it all made sense. All the little pieces of the puzzles – the self-righteousness, the yakuza, Etsuko, the program, the hacking abilities – that he could not make up fitted together. L silently shook with hardly suppressed anger.

"Out." He breathed between gritted teeth. "Everyone out."

"Ryuuzaki –" Yagami-san started hesitantly.

"I said 'OUT'. _OUT ALL OF YOU!!_" He yelled, completely losing his composure.

At this, they all scampered away. Watari poked his head out of the kitchen. "L are you –"

"_Leave me. Alone._"

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, L violently swept his arm over the tray of snack and satisfyingly heard the china break as it hit the ground.

_Damn Kirin. Damn Kira. Damn him whoever he is!_

Like a fool, he had been played. The vase was thrown on the floor. _He had believed him; he had believed that conniving lying son of a bitch._

He had been taken in by the youth's sweet lies, by his intellect, by his inquiries. He had even thought of teaming up with the two-faced bastard in order to capture Kira. He let out a bitter chuckle.

All this time, it had been Kira all along. Kirin was but a fantasy created by Kira to trick him. And then, that last message… that taunt.

_Oh… he had known who Anti-Kira was all this time._

In that moment of rage, he suddenly caught sight of Raito-Kirin-_KIRA_ calmly discussing whatever dismal plan he had with Namikawa. At that instant, he wanted to haul that little television set out of the window.

Or perhaps go down there and beat the prick up himself.

Instead, he merely curled up on himself and watched Kirin-Kira talk. His arms were wrapped around his legs and his head practically buried down. Only his dark eyes were visible, looking onto the screen.

Despite having finally achieved his goal and discovered Kira's – and even Kirin's – identity, all L felt was a sense of loss. Sometimes ignorance really was bliss.

* * *

_**March 13**__**th**__** 2004**_

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS MEMBERS CONFESSIONS**

**Today, 3:32 AM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN, what is your goal in life?_

**Today, 4:54 AM - KIRIN**: _Why this all of a sudden? My goal? I do not know really. To see justice be realised perhaps. To see crimes rightfully punished by a rightful system. To see Kira judged and executed? To survive? I do not know. The future is uncertain and I have never been one to hope._

_Hope has only ever destroyed me._

* * *

_**March 19**__**th**__** 2004**_

"L – please tell me I am wrong. Is my – my son really –" The man had immensely aged in the last week and a half. White hair peppered the black and grey strands and his features were drawn out by both lack of sleep and worry.

L himself did not look that great and the shadows under his eyes had deepened. After he had completely destroyed the hotel room, they had immediately moved out. They could not stay in the Sheraton any longer since Matsuda had revealed their location to Kira.

The detective had subsequently spent the next few days locked up in his room, unwilling to see any of his coworkers. Even Watari had been kept out.

"Yes. I need you to show me all the letters you have of him."

With shaky hands, Yagami-san retrieved them. Despite his question, he must have anticipated it.

It had taken L a long time to calm down enough to examine the situation carefully and without getting his bitterness embroiled but what he had come up with made his blood boil.

Takamiya Raito was Kira and Kirin. There was no doubt about it. A father like Yagami-san would have instilled the meanings of good and evil, of righteousness and justice in his child's mind. As shown by the letters, these feelings and beliefs still remained despite the boy's changed circumstances. His connections with the yakuza, and thus Etsuko, only made him the perfect suspect.

Thus, it was perfectly plausible for Raito to be Kira.

But not Kirin. Never Kirin.

L bitterly munched on his piece of custard pie. But then, L had been tricked. It seemed as though Kirin was nothing but an illusion, a means for Kira to incite his followers to take action, like what he had done to Righteous-Apostle. It was quite clever of him. By presenting them with an enemy, he had forced them to ally and think, and to take a more proactive stance when it came to Kira and the judicial system.

It had worked. The people were demanding reforms in the law enforcement and the yakuza seemed to have been scared into submission. As for L, it appeared as though Kira did not view the detective as a threat any longer, even though he was slowly but steadily closing in on the murderer.

After all, if Kira changed the world's mentality, he would have won, regardless of L's actions. The detective could not suppress his feelings of indignation at the thought.

It highly annoyed him, but it was about time he took action. He could no longer allow his emotions to govern the case. Whatever his feelings, Kira must be stopped.

Looking up from the crumpled letters, L addressed the task force. "I am 99 percent sure Takamiya Raito is Kira." He could not look at Yagami-san. "As many of you have already guessed, he is also Kirin. It is through his program that he managed to gain access to our investigation."

"Then we must immediately warn the NPA and all the other agencies." Aizawa exclaimed.

"No. You cannot. The discovery of such a leak will cause immeasurable panic and we do not want that to happen. The law enforcement cannot handle another blow. Moreover, this clue doesn't exactly harm our investigation as we do not use his software." His lips twisted up into a slight smirk. "However, we may be able to trick him into making a mistake through it."

Frowning, Ukita spoke up. "But can't we just arrest Kira and confine him or something?"

With great regret, L shook his head. "No, because we do not know his means of murder, we cannot do anything of the sort yet. If we try to detain him, the Black Dragon is going to learn about Raito's two other identities. Through this, it is quite possible that Kira's power will somehow be transferred to them. The murders now, though reprehensible, are at least controlled. It will not be so with the organised crime involved.

"This means we cannot act until we find out what that power is. Waraya," he turned towards the young woman, "you said he told you he was preparing for the entrance exams right?"

She nodded.

_And he told me he had signed four years of his life away, the amount of time necessary to complete a major. Furthermore, the 17__th__ of January coincides the day of Toudai's entrance examination._

"Then I will go undercover as a student at Tokyo University and get close to him." They all looked at him, shocked. "It may be a bit late to register but they would not deny me. Now, we must start investigating the yakuza, but do not, and I repeat," he looked pointedly at Matsuda, "do not tip off the Organised Crime Department or the various syndicates. Also, Yagami-san, are you certain you can continue with the investigation?"

"Yes, it was what –" He shook his head. "Yes." He repeated, more resolutely.

"Good. Now let's get to work."

He will bring the war to Kirin's door. It will be between the two of them now, and Toudai will be their battleground.

* * *

_**March 20**__**th**__** 2004**_

"I – A Death Note? You mean I have a power like Kira's now?"

"Yes."

Grinning, she clutched the notebook close to her chest. She was like Kira now; she was going to meet Kira, the man who had executed her parents' murderer. Even though he usually killed greater criminals, he had deemed that filthy burglar who had destroyed her life just as bad as they. He had seen her plight.

_Wait for me Kira, I am coming for you!_

* * *

**A/N**: Yes, the moment you've all been waiting for is finally here. Isn't it great? And see, I actually managed to dump L in Toudai! And the greatest thing is that Raito was ahead of L this time.

Okay, so the second arc is done and there are two others left. Still haven't planned everything out yet for the next part so it's gonna take a while, especially as finals are here (though school is officially over).

Anyway, I really want to give out a **_huge thanks _**to Recipe for Insanity and her wonderful and quick work in editing this chapter. A round of applause please!

And thank you all for the reviews and I look forward to finding out what you think about this one. Isn't it great that they'll soon meet?

_Important question: For the beginning of year speeches, do any of you know if the representatives write it themselves or if they're just reading out whatever Toudai decided for them?_

**_IMPORTANT: Seeing as many people are confused with how L figured out the connection between Raito, Kirin and Kira so quickly, I posted his thoughts on my livejournal. The realisation was made almost instantaneously so the thoughts are a bit jumbled._**


	12. Of Announcements and Humiliation

Chapter 11

Of Announcements and Humiliation

* * *

_**April 1**__**st**__** 2001**_

"Sorry I'm late – got stuck in traffic." The words were garbled as Katsuo did not bother to remove the cigarette from his mouth before speaking.

Not that it mattered. They all knew he was lying; his sloppy appearance, the bags under his eyes and the stench of sex and smoke imbued into his very clothes fully attested to the fact.

Last night… last night had been wonderful. Mindless intercourse and drugs did that to a person and although his head was still ringing from the previous evening and early morning activities, he in no way regretted it. After all, this was pretty much what his life had been like for the past several years. The only difference being that this particular revelry had taken place in Tokyo.

It had been more or less four years since he had last been in Japan. He had spent that intervening time away in Korea, Thailand, Taiwan and even in the Philippines, away from his father's condemning eyes and finally free to enjoy the _privileges_ of his rank.

Though his old man had sent him away to teach him the meaning of responsibilities, the lesson he learnt was of a completely different nature. Away from his father's unending list of restrictions, Katsuo had thrived. None of the underlings dared disobey the oyabun's heir and that was perfectly fine with him. Away from Japan, the yakuza lived under a completely different set of rules. They didn't waste time with useless formalities and divisions of power and whatnot. No. Their business, their fate lay in Katsuo's hands. The rules were much simpler and all that was required from them was their unquestioning obedience.

In Korea, the twenty-six-year-old bowed down to none. There was no stupid father looming over his shoulder ready to berate him at every minute. There was only him, at the head of the operations – though he did not even need to exert himself in order to ensure their success. He left the planning and the execution to his people. It was easier that way.

Overall, it had been the good life.

It all changed now that he was back. Katsuo somewhat resented his loss of freedom but then… this probably meant his little 'exile' was over. Now that he was back in town, he would probably have a greater say in their main operations.

Perhaps his father had finally acknowledged his worth.

The yakuza almost snorted at the thought as he plopped down on the only free seat – at his father's side as was proper. As if that cold uncaring bastard would ever pay attention to him! The man might have risen to become one of the greatest yakuza in the last decades, but he had not an ounce of caring in his frozen heart. The oyabun had never spared a second of his precious time on anything other than business – not on his wife, and certainly not on his son. He surely would not start now.

Well, the feeling was mutual.

Katsuo lazily blew the smoke up.

"Katsuo, I would appreciate it if you took your duties more seriously in the future."

_Blah. Not as though you would even notice if I tried._

He did not bother to look at the oyabun however as the thought ran through his mind. He might have long ceased trying to meet his father's unreasonable expectations, but that did not mean the bastard's disappointed gazes were any easier to bear. Since he couldn't evade his presence in the room, he simply avoided looking at him altogether. Instead, he focused his attention elsewhere.

Through half-lidded eyes, the twenty-six-year-old lazily scanned the table's other occupants. Yamamoto was just as much a doddering old fool as before though he seems to have lost even more hair since his departure. Nothing too surprising there.

Oh. And Morinaga looked just as stern and serious. Were those more wrinkles he saw on the man's forehead? He squinted and tried to focus his sight some more. Yeah… there were probably some new wrinkles but the frowning certainly didn't help.

In fact, it seemed the whole pack of old fools were all somewhat frowning and looking at the head of the table in thought.

Rubbing his throbbing temples – the after-effects of the night's party still had not worn off – he turned his head. The sight that greeted him was not what he had expected.

A child, a boy – a very pretty one though – was primly setting next to his old man. He was dressed very neatly, like some snobby corporate heir or maybe the son of a politician, and Katsuo could not help but wonder what he was doing here. It was quite out of character of his father to bring a whore (with his looks, he couldn't be anything but) – no matter how nicely dressed-up – to their monthly meeting.

But then, perhaps his old man had loosened up over the years. Perhaps a demonstration was somewhat needed. It would make a fun distraction from the tedium of their meeting.

Letting out a yawn, Katsuo let his thoughts derail in this nonsensical direction. It was probably the hangover talking because though he was straight, he could easily imagine how tempting an image that whore would make, all mussed and dishevelled – dignity completely lost.

Well, it _was_ how he liked his prostitutes. The women might try to look all high-and-mighty but they were all just waiting to be fucked. He loved to teach them their place.

Entirely caught up by his musings, he missed most of the conversation that was going on around him, _until_ he caught the teenager _clearly_ speaking out of turn.

Without even a reprimand from his father.

Katsuo blinked, unable to believe his eyes and ears. _What the fuck was going on?_

"Morinaga-san," the boy said in a smooth cultured tone, "I understand perfectly well why you would doubt my worth but would you actually doubt Takamiya-sama's judgement? He has led the Black Dragon for the past three decades without fail, he is not about to falter now.

"As for myself," a sly smile twisted his lips, "when given the chance, I will be glad to prove my skills."

_Okay. Definitely making advances. So father is trying to secure his people's allegiance with his private whore? Hadn't thought he would ever use such tactics. But hey, people change._

Grinning, Katsuo could not help himself. "Your skills must be mind-blowing to have lured father away from his enforced celibacy…" He said with a twisted smirk, twirling the butt of his cigarette between his fingers as he turned towards the older man. "But I'd never thought you would be the type to share your personal little slut with others."

Silence greeted him as all the table's occupants stared at him in shock.

Face entirely drained of blood, the youth looked completely mortified. Meanwhile, the oyabun's normally impassive face was slowly reddening with anger. Katsuo watched their reactions with satisfaction.

_Hit a bit too close to home eh father?_

"Katsuo," the old man's voice was low but the threat was unmistakable. Perhaps, he had pushed a tad too far this time… "Apologize to your adoptive brother this instance."

_Adopt –_

"Huh? What?" His eyes bugged out and the fag he had previously been playing around with slipped from between his fingers. It fell on the ground without any ceremony. "You – you adopted that little slut? What the –"

The glare his father sent him silenced him at once. "You have not been paying attention to the past discussion, have you?"

Enraged by that _baseless_ accusation – after all, why would he be the one at fault? – he snarled at his father. "So what if I wasn't? Why should I care about what you have to say about your catamite? Not like I'm one of those lining up to fuck him!" He turned to the little bitch. "So, how did you manage to seduce him? Women have been trying forever but perhaps what he needed was a sweet little piece of ass like you." A twisted bitter gleam glowed behind his pupils. "A bit young father, and of the wrong sex… but hey, mom was never of any interest to you, eh?"

"Katsuo." One word. His name. A warning that he dared not cross. "You will cease insulting Raito-kun this instant. He is your adoptive brother, Katsuo, nothing as crude or debasing as what you have –" the older man paused for a bit, his hesitance plainly showing his disgust for his son's words, "suggested."

"But –"

"Must I repeat myself?"

Brimming with barely repressed fury, he slumped back on his seat. His teeth gritted against one another.

_That _must_ be a lie… Why the heck would father adopt that pretty boy when he already has me?_

It would have been so easy to shout his objection but Katsuo managed to refrain himself in time. He had already humiliated himself once and by the looks of scorn visible on each of those decrepit old men's faces, any further comment from him certainly would not be in any way appreciated.

Instead, he lit up his cigarette and bit into it. While he smoked away in sullen silence, the little whore went on about his task – charming the room with his _oh-so-clever _remarks – while his father watched on indulgently.

He hated this. He hated it.

Clearly, the rumours had been true. The ones he had ignored.

He had an _adoptive brother_ – his mind spat out the repulsive words. That little bitch.

He hated it, hated him. Just as much as his father apparently adored him, if the way his eyes followed that – Raito's every move was anything to go by. He knew he had been right with his initial assessment. He knew the faggot had seduced his old man.

But they were all too blind to see it.

Under the desk, his free hand clenched into a fist. Someday, he would teach the kid a lesson. Nobody messed with his life. Nobody made a fool out of Takamiya Katsuo.

If the bitch loved taking it up the ass so much, he would be sure to indulge him and send him back to the brothels where he belonged.

After all, it was all he deserved. There was no way he would ever allow that slut to take away his birthright. He would die before he let that happen.

_Oh… he was _so_ going to pay…_

* * *

_A Prince should therefore be very careful that nothing ever escapes his lips which is not replete with the five qualities above named, so that to see and hear him, one would think him the embodiment of mercy, good faith, integrity, humanity and religion. And there is no virtue which it is more necessary for him to seem to possess than this last; because men in general judge rather by the eye than by the hand, for every one can see but few can touch._

* * *

_**April 5**__**th**__** 2004**_

"Raito is a college student now… I'm so proud of him."

The youth made no sign of having heard his invisible companion as he slowly got out of the limousine. Closing the door behind him, he saw the shinigami unabashedly gawking at his surroundings and the rows of Sakura trees in full bloom. His face bore a mixture of longing and disappointment – probably mourning that the driveway was not lined with apple trees instead.

Behind him, Kohashi was murmuring instructions to the driver.

Seeing that it might take a while, Raito focused his attention on the golden building erected before them, the Nippon Budokan. The imposing octagonal structure had originally been built for the Judo competition of the 1964 Summer Olympics and has hosted many martial art tournaments and concerts since. Today, a different occasion would take place under its sprawling roof. Below the red plaque and on the balustrade, a long banner proudly announced Tokyo University's 2004 Entrance Ceremony.

Raito was going back to school.

He did not know how he felt about the matter. It had been so long since he had had a 'normal' education and school now felt like a foreign concept to him. His last few years had been spent with tutors who had worked at his pace and later on, he had conducted his own independent studies. He learned at his leisure and though his knowledge was quite complete in all subjects, certain facets of his education had been rather… unconventional.

To once again confront the rigid structure of the educational system would be – different. Raito did not doubt that the pace of some of the lessons and the material would eventually exasperate him but…

The youth took a deep breath, closing his eyelids for a second, and felt the breeze ruffle his silken strands of hair. The freedom made it all worth it.

To be his own person among his peers, among people his own age, who had not been plagued daily with violence, death and crimes. It would be refreshing; it would be liberating. Of course, he would have to court the bright leaders of the future, the sons and daughters of politicians and the numerous corporate heirs, but why would that be a burden of any kind?

A soft Sakura blossom brushed against his cheek. Raito carefully caught it and held it between his index and middle fingers, softly smiling as he looked into its subtle pink tint. As he raised his head, he released his hold and let it drift to the ground.

He turned to his bodyguard and saw that he was done. The car was now turning around. The boom barrier lifted and the driver headed off towards the parking lot.

"Come. President Komiya is waiting for us."

With purposeful strides, he walked towards the building and climbed the low flagstone steps. Kohashi opened the door for him and he entered the Nippon Budokan.

Finding his way into the main hall was quite easy and a sea of green greeted his arrival. Helpers scurried about as they set up rows upon rows of jade-coloured chairs on a flooring of the same hue. In a corner, the musicians were rehearsing under their conductor's baton. Wagner's _Meistersinger_ was at times interrupted by their leader's instructions and demands.

At the center of the room, a large platform had been set up with a long black curtain hanging behind it as its backdrop. A golden folding screen had been placed in the middle to contrast with the darkness of the cloth. Rows of chairs had been arranged at either side of the byobu and before it stood the president, looking over the preparations.

Without preamble, the eighteen-year-old walked up to the older man.

As soon as he caught sight of the youth and his bodyguard, Komiya-san came to greet him. He directed them through a side door and out of the hall.

"I hope your trip here was pleasant Takamiya-kun."

Raito presented him with one of his sweet infectious smiles. "Of course. Thank you for inquiring. I see the preparations are going well." He added with a slight nod to their previous location.

"Yes. The ceremony should be a success this year too. I especially look forward to your speech. If you are as great a speaker as a writer, I believe the freshmen will be impressed."

"You honour me Komiya-san."

"There is nothing to be bashful about Takamiya-kun." With a quick turn of his key, he unlocked one of the private rooms. "Come. We have much to discuss."

As soon as he entered the room, the school official shrugged off his black robe and carefully placed it on the back of the couch. He took out a few files from the briefcase he had left on the coffee table. Raito sat opposite to him, Kohashi at his back.

"As you know, Toudai prides itself for offering two years of general studies to our students before they head off into their individual specialisations. It really is a shame that you are determined to skim through this process by undergoing a double major. It would not be easy, of course, but we have studied your profile in detail and we believe you can manage. After all, you are probably the most promising student the college has seen in decades."

Raito made sure to show his full appreciation for their effort. His test scores had little to do with their compliance though they did help. No, it was his connection to the yakuza, his position as Takamiya-sama's adoptive son, that had the president of Tokyo University bowing down in deference. After all, though they had to go through a lot of trouble to create a program and schedule they did not offer previously, there was no need for the _president_ to meet him in person.

No, it was all about politics and getting on his adoptive father's good side. For his help, Raito was willing to act more accommodating.

As the director detailed the various concessions the school had made, his listener could not help but silently bemoan how complicated it all was. Because he wanted to specialise in two fields, he would have to commute between the Komaba and Hongo campuses. The general education took place in the former while the latter offered most of the specific courses needed for his two bachelors. His schedule was consequently quite full and his breaks had been arranged purposefully so that he would be able to make it to his various classes in time, even when they were situated on two completely different university grounds.

Scanning through it, Raito suddenly realised all the time school was going to gobble up. His extracurricular 'activities' would again have to suffer. Still, the network among his peers he was determined to build would only expand in influence because he was studying in two campuses. His contacts would not be limited to the first and second year students – and the older ones from the math department – from Komaba.

When finally the discussion died down and Raito prepared to leave, Komiya-san abruptly spoke up. The sudden nervous tremor in his voice contrasted with the easy assurance he had shown earlier.

"One last thing, Takamiya-kun. I would like to ask you a – favour." Raito raised an elegant eyebrow at the words, inviting the man to continue.

"As you know, you received a perfect score on our entrance exam. Against all expectations, someone else managed it this year, a certain Ryuuga Hideki."

Raito's eyes widened at his pronouncement. There was someone as _book smart_ as him? Well, that was _interesting_.

Seeing that his guest did not take offence, the president hurried through the rest of explanation. "However, he took the entrance exam quite late and consequently did not have time to write his own speech. I was wondering if you would mind sharing yours with him. I can understand if you don't want to but –"

The youth cut him off before his words derailed to incoherent babbling. "It's fine. I will be glad to help out a fellow representative. He can read the first half of the address and I will simply finish it off."

"Thank you so much!" The man told him, bowing down so low that his receding hairline was perfectly visible from Raito's seat. "It was what I told him but I was not certain if you would agree. Thank you!"

But Raito was no longer listening to his words of gratitude and the flow of compliments that followed. Instead, he was silently contemplating the character of this Ryuuga Hideki. It was a strange name, to say the least. He highly doubted the perfect scorer was the pop idol, but then, intelligence can be found in the strangest of places.

Whoever he was, the youth was quite anxious to make his acquaintance and find out the reason he took the exam so late. Just like in Raito's case, the school was making a lot of allowances for this new student and he felt an intense desire to discover why.

After all, it wasn't very often he met someone who could match up to him and had the potential of becoming his… equal.

* * *

Aizawa yawned as he closed the door behind him. A few minutes back, Ukita had left the hotel to replace him at the police station.

"So where's L?" He asked, immediately noticing the absence of the sugar-high detective among the room's occupants.

Soichiro did not bother to look up from the files he had been flipping through since the previous night. "It's the fifth today." He grumbled out. His free hand absentmindedly reached out for his mug of coffee.

"The fifth –?"

"L's gone to Toudai's entrance ceremony." Waraya-san elaborated in his stead.

Aizawa slumped down on his seat and ran a harried hand through his afro. "Damn. It's that time already. With the investigation going on, days seem to be blurring into one another and we still don't have much in terms of evidence."

_But it was an entirely different matter if you're talking about a suspect._

Soichiro's hand hurriedly turned the page though he hadn't exactly read most of it.

"Yeah," said Matsuda. He placed his own documents on the table and started stretching his arms. "I'm beginning to wonder why L's so set on Raito-kun being Kira. Sure, I'd admit there are a bunch of coincidences but maybe that's just all there is to it."

_Maybe that's all there is to it, but ask yourself, do you really believe it to be so? Are you willing to disillusion yourself? Or will you, as Raito asked, keep pursuing on, eyes open, no matter what._

"And the day he found out, didn't any of you find his reaction a bit extreme? Throwing us out of the room like that?"

Brushing her bangs out of the way, Waraya-san frowned at the young police officer. "Matsuda-san, I can understand your doubts on the matter but sometimes, you simply have to trust L. Though he does not look like much, you must not forget that he is the best detective in the world." She closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

_Appearances can be oh-so-deceiving, eh?_

"Though he has overreacted, it does not mean his judgement is faulty. Most of you do not know this but L had been trying to recruit Kirin into the task force. He believed the programmer would have been able to help us find whatever traces Kira might have left in the FBI's files. Imagine what he must have felt upon discovering the truth. He had almost hired the murderer and thus irreparably compromised the investigation. Overall, his reaction is quite reasonable."

"But it isn't as though he really has any proof. Don't you think he's getting ahead of himself by saying that Raito-kun is Kirin _and_ Kira? It's like – you know, coincidences," he said, emphasizing the last word.

"We already know that Kira specifically targeted Etsuko-san and his death was somehow related with what had been happening with the yakuza. It couldn't have been a mere _coincidence_ that Takamiya-kun, a _yakuza_ who might have gained much from Etsuko-san's death, was meeting Namikawa-san, _Kirin's_ intermediate," Aizawa let out somewhat exasperatedly.

"But as I said before, it could have simply been a coincidence. And really, businessmen are all corrupt. They could have just been working out some nefarious deal together. Who said it had to have anything to do with Kirin?"

"Didn't you notice how friendly the two interacted with one another?" asked Aizawa.

He frowned in confusion. "Yeah, so?"

"Well, the ease they felt in each other's presence would not be found in normal business dealings. In addition, if this was somehow related to the sokaiya, Takamiya-kun would have kept his bodyguard around him as a precaution. But he sent him away because he wanted to keep the entire affair private. It most probably had nothing to do with the yakuza."

"Also," Waraya-san added, "after Watari failed to hire Kirin, L asked me research Namikawa-san. He is an extremely cunning and ruthless businessman but he is honourable. Although Yotsuba does occasionally deal with organised crime, Namikawa-san never actually entertained any relations with them, which only makes his friendship with Black Dragon's oyabun's adoptive son all the more suspicious."

As the two explained the logic behind L's assumption to Matsuda, Soichiro felt his heart sink. His own reasoning, triggered by the detective's uncharacteristic show of emotion, had followed a similar path, but to hear it out loud destroyed any hope he could have harboured.

But then… he knew his son – or knew him as much as he could.

He knew of his brilliance, of his righteousness. Despite all that had happened to him, his precious boy still maintained a high sense of justice. His letters were proof of that. After all, he was still concerned with the police chief's morals, often reprimanding him and reminding him of his duty.

_He_ had never lost sight of the true meaning of justice, unlike his father.

It would not be entirely implausible for his beloved Raito to be Kira but then…

… that would mean he _was_ the mass murderer. Soichiro felt his core being torn to shreds every time he approached that train of thought and so he concentrated instead on simply catching Kira.

Kira – not his son, _please not his son_. As long as there was no definite proof, he could still ignore what his instincts were screaming at him. He simply had to catch the murderer and hopefully put his heart at ease.

_If miracles existed…_

"But that's not fair to the chief!"

"Matsuda, please leave the issue alone."

"But Yagami-san's lost Raito-kun once already, why should he have to go through this when we don't even have any conclusive proof?"

"Matsuda, do not try to understand what I am going through," Soichiro told him icily. "I have resigned myself to catching Kira and if he is Raito, then I will live with the fact. I will not abandon my duty because of personal feelings."

_Not again._

"But chief –"

His fingers tightened around the stack of papers and he could barely stop himself from snapping at his subordinate. Enough was enough. "Quit making assumptions. You have no idea."

He ran a hand through his grey-streaked hair. "Do you know how hard it is, constantly wondering how _he_ has turned out because I lost him to his fate? Do you know how many sleepless nights I have spent, thinking about him, wondering about him – wishing to see him again, perhaps talk to him?" His voice was barely above a murmur. "I lost my child before he even turned twelve. He is now eighteen. Do you know how hard it is, to see him now, fully grown, an adult almost, and knowing I had no part in it.

"Do you know how difficult, how painful it is for me because he is the main, the only suspect in the Kira case? Deep down, I have always known he had become a yakuza but_ Kira?_ You cannot guess my feelings Matsuda. You cannot.

"_You_ have not failed him. You are not the reason why he has turned out this way. So stop trying to meddle when there is nothing to meddle with."

He took a deep breath to get his emotions back under control.

"Raito might be my son but my priorities lie with the investigation. I will catch Kira, whether he is Raito or not. There is no need for you to concern yourself with my feelings. I will do my job and that is the end of the matter."

Silence fell through the room like a heavy shroud as the chief resolutely concentrated on his papers.

"Let us get back to work," Aizawa softly instructed. From the shuffling that resulted from his words, it seemed they all agreed on that point.

Fingers holding tightly to his pen, a sudden fleeting thought passed through Soichiro's mind. _Toudai's entrance ceremony_. Apparently, his son would be the student representative with L.

Toudai. The student representative. His son.

Somehow, he had always assumed that to be his beloved Raito's destiny after witnessing all his achievements as a child but…

… not at such a cost.

He shook his head and took another gulp from his swiftly cooling coffee. It was useless to dwell on reminiscences and past dreams and he firmly buried the thought before returning to work.

He would let L deal with Raito-Kira.

Soichiro was far too emotionally involved to even dare contemplate approaching his lost son. Kira was all he allowed himself to handle.

After all, duty should come before family.

* * *

"And now a few words from our freshman representatives Takamiya Raito and Ryuuga Hideki."

He watched Kira get up from his seat, his countenance the epitome of perfection. His every move exuded charm and grace and the utter flawlessness the detective had expected from that skilfully manipulative bastard. As he followed the _beguiling_ young man up to the podium, his eyes would not leave his suspect's back. If stares could burn holes into someone, L's would as his bottomless pupils bore into the actor's being and tried to tear away his multiple shields. Yet, Kira remained unfazed.

Turning to look at him gently, he bestowed upon the detective a sweet, _innocent_ smile and placed his crisply folded address on the lectern. Then, giving one quick reassuring nod, he moved aside, all the while inviting his enemy to fall for his charms.

L would never repeat that mistake.

Picking the sheet up with the tips of his fingers as though he were holding onto something contagious – which he probably was –, the sloppily dressed representative quickly skimmed over the printed speech and inwardly scowled at its predictable excellence.

There was no way L would fall for this show of pretension and actually make use of Kira's tools. No. He would warp them; turn them against their portentous master.

Inwardly smirking, the detective's brilliant mind quickly ran through the words, determined to completely tear down the mass murderer's brainwashing discourse. It was time they faced the blunt truth hidden behind this proficient actor.

With great glee, the elder male perverted the essence of Kira's speech as every sentence that escaped his lips became a cruel distorted image of its former self.

By depriving the killer of his masks and games, he was stripping his enemy down to his core. No unnecessary flourishes would be seen in this discourse – unlike all of Kira's wordy ramblings in the forums.

At his side, he could feel his foe brimming with barely repressed fury. L's eyes gleamed with malice and he further raised his usually low monotone.

The game was on.

* * *

'_Ladies and gentlemen, at the risk of sounding cliché, I must say that I am truly honoured to stand before you all as your freshman representative,'_ Yes, you do sound awfully cliché, L thought vindictively, but that's what all these speeches are like unfortunately,_ 'even though I highly doubt I can ever faithfully represent you all. I cannot say what your wishes, dreams and aspirations for the future are; I do not know any of you personally – a condition we can hopefully rectify – but I do know how much work we have each put in to reach this point.'_ How very sappy! Kira is trying to recruit followers I see.

'_Tokyo University might have been the main goal for many of us,'_ As if! The detective inwardly scoffed. Killing is your goal, you scheming psychopath…_ 'but it is in no way the end, only a brief chapter in our existence. As I walked up the steps to the Nippon Budokan, I cannot help but notice the Sakura trees that greeted our entrance into the next stage of our life. The transience of their bloom is very similar to our university time: short but full of potential.' _More like the transience of your reign, Kira.

'_Treasure these few years of studies. Never let your dreams fade. What you see before you now is but the beginning.'_

"Everyone, I am quite _honoured_," the slight tilt in L's otherwise emotionless tone indicated his true opinion on this so-called 'honour', "to be your freshman representative. I cannot speak for you all because I do not know you, nor would I care to. However, as we are now entering Tokyo University, I would expect us all to keep working hard. This is the next step to our future and where the next battle will take place."

* * *

Despite Raito's usual mastery of his self, he had been unable to prevent himself from staring at that _Ryuuga_ in shock. That – that _insolent_ bastard had usurped his work and perverted its essence.

_How dare he!?_

If he had not been in public, he would have stalked up to the thieving scum and choked his miserable, cheeky life out of him. He had never felt so insulted and used.

For an utter stranger to –

No, he took a deep breath. He had to remain calm. He must keep his cool. Takamiya Raito was better than that – that freak. He had faced more dangerous and exasperating situations without blowing up. He was not about to let that scum destroy his dignity. He slowly, deliberately clenched his hands, this action unseen by anyone. Oh! They were itching to reach out for that pale scrawny neck but he refrained himself from murdering in public. Gradually, his furiously beating heart calmed. There was no need to cause a scene.

Keeping his gaze friendly – though the disrespecting bastard probably still felt his glare smothering his back – and his smile plastered on his face, he contemplated all the sweet revenge he would exact on that ungrateful undeserving gnat. He would crush the bug later. Make him pay.

But only when there would be no witnesses. He wasn't about to get caught for something so petty – but necessary to salve his wounded pride.

For now, all Raito needed to do was smile and keep his calm. Hopefully, he would be able to salvage the situation halfway through the address. After all, he was the one who would read the second part of the speech.

At his back, the shinigami was guffawing unrestrainedly, throwing out quick comments that compared the original to Ryuuga's 'improved' version. Apparently, Raito's predicament was quite amusing to the deformed monster.

Well, Ryuk would not be getting any apples anytime soon.

* * *

'_So much awaits us. We have seen but a brief glimpse of what our world has to offer. And here, in Tokyo University, our search for knowledge and for ourselves will be partially answered.' _More like my search for Kira.

'_I still remember how young and innocent I was at eleven, so arrogant and assured of my own prowess. Believe it or not but I was convinced I would succeed where my elders and superiors had failed.' _And here's another confirmation for Takamiya being Kira. He not only believed he was better than adults when he was young, but now, he is convinced he is above the law. _'Well, it landed me in a bit of a predicament, one I care not to repeat after getting the beating of a lifetime. I had never been so scolded before!' _Well, it seems as though that lesson had not been enough, L thought darkly, _'But sometimes, failures are necessary in order to grow. We learn from our mistakes and though some would be graver than others, as long as we do not repeat them again, it is but another step forward._

'_University is a learning environment, do not be afraid to stumble. Rising up again is what we need to strive for however. Sometimes, it takes another world, a greater challenge for us to realise our own insignificance and to be driven to heights further than ones we could ever have imagined.' _So is that your excuse for becoming Kira – to prove your godhood?

"Tokyo University has much to offer us and we must strive to learn all we can. At this point in time, failure is no longer an option as our future is now at stake. The university is an entirely different playing field, one where only the strongest will succeed and survive," he said, glancing at Kira for a reaction as his challenge was thrown.

L was disappointed to be met with the mass murderer's indifference.

* * *

The president of Toudai was frozen in his seat as soon as Ryuuga-kun opened his mouth. The boy had twisted the entirety of Takamiya-kun's speech, only keeping its outline as though to mock its owner.

He nervously bit the side of his lips. This was not good. This was horrible. Should Takamiya-kun seek retaliation, there was no way Daichi could ever stop him. He feared for his school.

He did not want bloodshed. He did not want this. But with the yakuza involved, and especially after such an offence, he did not know what to expect. He really should not have accepted Ryuuga-kun's admission – despite his connections to one of their greatest sponsors.

He really shouldn't have.

When Ryuuga-kun did not stop halfway through the address and let Takamiya-kun take over, instead bulldozing his entire way through and razing the beautiful constructions of words to the ground in his destructive passage, Komiya Daichi knew that it was over.

There was no way for Takamiya-kun to reclaim his masterpiece. It had been torn down, obliterated. He was certain the young yakuza would not let such an insult pass.

Sweat pooled on his forehead. Now, he could only hope for a miracle and the Black Dragon's mercy.

* * *

'_From this day forward, a different stage has been set, a new environment has been offered for us to explore and in which grow.' _To fight._ 'It is different, strange – unlike the small cage we are used to, with its strict classroom discipline and small groups of peers. Here, we have the opportunity to develop to our full potential at our leisure – if only we are not afraid of what lies outside of our golden bars.' _Oh… you will be afraid when I am done with you Kira. The execution chamber is what awaits your murdering, lying soul.

'_It might not be the jungle of the job market but this garden is wild nonetheless. But let your roots grow, let your leaves seek up the light of the sun and breathe in the freshness of the air. Nurture your being; do not deprive yourself of what your ecosystem has to offer. Despite the harshness of the studies that await you, do not give up. When winter melts away, spring will always be there to greet you and carry you on further._

'_Let us spread our wings.' _And I shall shoot you down.

"Like plants who have grown used to domesticity, we must learn and adapt because the world outside is not so kind. We will not be coddled here, protected from the wind and cold, and offered everything on a silver plate. Insects will swarm at us; weeds will try to steal our resources. In this harsher environment that is university life, do not give up, and do not lag behind.

"Because no one will be there to pick up your pieces. Nature is not kind to the weak."

* * *

"What the heck is that guy's problem?"

"Isn't the address supposed to be a bit more positive and encouraging?"

"Well, just look at him. He's totally different from the other representative who looks like a sheltered prodigy. Pampered and brilliant, like a plant in a greenhouse."

"Using the plants' metaphor now?"

Chuckles followed.

"Well, the other is wild and peculiar. I guess that's what you would call the disposition of a natural genius. Maybe that's why he's so unsympathetic. Must have gone through quite some trial to get to where he is today, unlike that – Takamiya-kun, was it?"

"Probably. And to wear that when attending Toudai's entrance ceremony and giving an address, he's probably dissing everyone."

"Plus, on his way up the podium, I noticed that he wasn't wearing socks and that he didn't tie his shoelaces."

"Yeah, maybe he's just poor."

"Like some scholarship student?"

"Probably."

* * *

As Ryuuga turned around and let him take the center stage with that blank expectant stare of his, Raito only smiled in response, seemingly completely unfazed. It would only irritate the freak if he did not react. He would not give him the pleasure of witnessing his frustration after all the grief he had caused him.

He would not let that ungrateful bandit throw him off his game. He was not so weak.

And although the bastard had mutilated his planned discourse beyond repair – he couldn't even reuse any of its elements – it did not mean he was completely helpless. His charisma had always been one of his strongest points and he would show that Ryuuga his mastery in the area.

Raito had always been highly adaptable and such a setback would not, could not unsettle him. He would show his _dear_ fellow representative. He would show him how fiercely he could fight back and rise up to the challenge when pressed into a corner.

He would teach him.

Seeing the sea of expectant gazes watching him and wondering what he would come up with after Ryuuga's startling speech, he closed his eyes and prepared himself.

As soon as he reopened them, he was ready. Going with his instincts, he took a deep breath and started.

It was time to play.

* * *

"After Ryuuga-kun has suitably," he paused for a second, giving his companion a slight smirk, "traumatized you with the predators lurking in Tokyo University, I believe it is my role to reassure you of how very tame this book-torn battleground actually is. After all, could it really be any worse than the stress and oceans of coffee we've inhaled in order to get past Toudai's red gates? And no, they are unfortunately not, in an entirely academic point of view, the gates to hell."

A stream of chuckles followed his pronouncement.

"I might only be a freshman who has not experienced the university's dark pages and its forest of tomes – that are just waiting to devour our time – but I am certain we will all somewhat survive its perilous depths. Just as long as we do not study to death.

"Wouldn't want those vultures to devour our poor unprotected carcasses, now would we?"

* * *

Mogi Kanzo watched in amazement as the chief's son turned the situation around. Where L had delivered a bland speech designed to shock his audience and confront his suspect, the young yakuza had ascended beyond him. The investigator was not sure if he was truly responding to L's challenge – _could he have known Ryuuga was L?_ – but he was certainly responding to his speech.

In an amusing, sarcastic and slightly dark style that had his listeners raptly following his every words.

Takamiya-kun was a young man any parent would be proud to claim as theirs. Handsome, brilliant and as bright as his name suggested, he could have been the perfect son. But all of it, all that potential had been torn from him by the yakuza. They had destroyed a family, destroyed the chief and had perverted the boy's essence for their own selfish reasons. Kanzo was not one to hate, but watching the youth on stage, pure rage at the injustice of the situation filled his being.

Because the presence standing before the crowd could certainly be Kira. He had the intelligence necessary to accomplish the task, the twisted but extremely adaptable mind and most importantly, all the clues and coincidences somewhat fit.

_Especially with Namikawa-san's attendance at the ceremony_, Kanzo thought, giving the businessman another quick glance.

He had been following the man ever since L's revelation half a month back and although he had not seen Takamiya-kun again in that period, it had not been a complete waste of time for his unseen stalker. The investigator had pretty much managed to confirm that Namikawa-san had absolutely no connection to any member of the yakuza besides Yagami-san's lost son.

It seems L's hypothesis in that regard had been correct.

Mogi Kanzo did not know what to think.

* * *

"I promise you, Tokyo University isn't a complete desert, despite how cold and impersonal Ryuuga-kun makes it seem. You will not find old students' remains half-buried in the sand, but if you do, be sure to advise the archaeology department.

"But no, as many of you will soon find out, the university is actually teeming with life. A jungle, you could say. And if rumours are correct, upon their entrance into the school ground, our freshmen predecessors have actually gotten mauled by the college's older inhabitants, caught by their roots and ensnared in their vines' vile, vile trap. Tokyo University is renowned for its clubs and varsities' aggressive recruitment.

"Fellow freshmen beware. Not of the difficult studies that lay ahead of you. If you have managed to make it to this point, keeping your good habits are the least of your concerns. No, be wary of the influence of your peers.

"Do not let yourselves be brainwashed when your objective here is to fill your head with knowledge. We are each our own person, not the extension of another's ambition. Our first responsibility is to our own fulfilment, or at least an attempt in that regard.

"Life – can be seen as a game, with its own set of rules and its own uncertain outcome. Each player has their own pair of dices." At this part of his speech, Raito's tone turned darker and more serious. "It is true we are unable to control our future and decide how our gamble will end, but that gamble is ours to take, ours to risk. You should not leave the task, _your_ task, to another. That is foolish.

"As we proceed into the next level, Toudai's game awaits us. But who are you on this elaborate chessboard: the player who determines the flow, for better or for worse, or the piece waiting to be moved? That is for you to decide." He told them, his steady gaze sweeping through the hall.

* * *

Teru watched in awe as Takamiya-san progressed through his discourse.

He had not expected much to come out of the entrance ceremony when he had finally decided to attend. After all, he had transferred from Kyodo University and it was not necessary for him to come. He had eventually placed his doubts aside when he had realised that it was the perfect opportunity to scout out this year's batch of freshmen and uncover worthy followers for God. Since he would be studying on a different campus, he would have very little access to them.

It was a burdensome duty, maybe even a waste of time, but he had shouldered it, perfectly aware of his responsibilities. Upon hearing Takamiya-san clear voice, all regrets have faded from Teru's mind.

He had found the _perfect_ spokesman for God.

All he needed to do now was find a way to approach him and recruit him for his cause. Teru was a diligent and persistent individual, especially for causes he believed in particularly strongly.

He would not give up once his mind was made up and Takamiya-san would become God's lovely messenger, his light and herald in these times of darkness.

* * *

"In this time of turmoil, where the ideals and morals of so many clash between one extreme and another, it will be hard for us to carve our own path. Our life is not a simple novel, a silly epic battle between Light and Darkness, Good and Evil.

"Our world is more complex than that, and far more complex than the harsh depiction of Tokyo University Ryuuga-kun has presented you with.

"Here, we will find resources to help us make our own decisions and orient our future. So many variables can come into play and it is consequently the one who can read farthest ahead and plan accordingly who will win. We may not like it, but we have little choice in the matter.

"Strategy games are simply annoying that way. But if you do know divination, then please share your gift. It would save me – I mean us – so much trouble.

"Everyone, this is the crossroad, the game room where we may prepare before we head blindly into our next adventure. So stock up your party, equip yourself with knowledge and friends and allies, and do not forget, Tokyo University is but your first step.

"Congratulation for getting in, but composing your future and the story of your life is the task of a lifetime.

"Now, with so much work ahead of us all, I guess it is time I stop talking and we all get started. But do try to avoid procrastination's evil temptress!" Raito finished with a flourish, a devilish smirk adorning his handsome features.

Roars of approval and a cacophony of clapping followed as the students began whispering excitedly among themselves.

As he gave a humble bow, Raito shot the freak a look filled with contempt.

Game, check and mate.

His usurping had only turned the situation to his opponent's favour.

* * *

Kiyomi watched, heart filled with wonder, as Takamiya-kun enchanted the crowd and pulled her into his seductive words. She had never met such a dazzling accomplished man – one she could respect and possibly – no she would not put the feeling into thought yet.

It was far too soon.

But she knew she would later approach him. He was too intriguing, too different from all those uncouth men she had met in the past to leave alone. If the image Takamiya-kun had presented at the entrance ceremony was his true face, then he might even become the only man she could ever accept and respect in her life.

But she must not be hasty. Too often had she been disappointed by her hanger-ons.

As the students all stood up to give the brilliant speaker a standing ovation, she felt her friend nudge her.

"This Takamiya-kun, he is quite godly, neh Takada?"

"Yes. Quite."

The twinkle in her eyes spoke unmistakably of her intention.

* * *

As the uproar died down, the rush inside of Raito subsided. All he felt was a vague emptiness for having adorned yet another mask, that of a cocky, confident young man.

A stupid façade he could never truly assume.

For that, he despised Ryuuga even more. For forcing him to discard his old discourse – one somewhat closer to his true persona despite its pretentiousness – for _this_ one. The speech was brilliant, it amused and spurred the crowd, but the way he went about it in order to diffuse the damage inflicted by the freak's misshapen address was _not_ him. Could never be him after all he had gone through.

Damn that Ryuuga.

Damn him all.

He gave the slightly hyperventilating president a quick nod and a reassuring smile to set his mind to rest. The yakuza will not descend upon Toudai. But as for Ryuuga, that was an entirely different matter.

Back straight, he walked down the few steps, with the freak shuffling behind him like some lost puppy. Suddenly, the bastard's breath brushed against his sensitive ears.

"Takamiya-kun, I must commend you for your brilliant manoeuvring of the situation and the speech you instantly came up with. I must admit I was mightily impressed. But then, perhaps I should not be surprised after all the conversations we have already exchanged. If anyone can turn a situation to his advantage, it is _you_ _Takamiya-kun_," he whispered, strongly emphasizing the last few words.

Raito's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. His stance wobbled.

"It is great to finally meet you in person."

L. _L!_ L had finally caught on to him.

L was here in person and letting him know of his precarious situation. L was going to –

And suddenly all the tension drained out of him. He should have known, he should have guessed. Only L would pull such a stunt and since it was L, Raito could forgive him. No matter how petty and vindictive the other man acted, the yakuza could let the offence slide through.

Because it was L.

For having discovered the connection between Kirin and Kira, Anti-Kira was perfectly in his right to behave in such a spiteful manner. Raito could not fault him, no matter the throbbing in his chest that this new development caused him. He simply accepted it.

It was the end of a wonderful friendship but that was nothing new. The different pages in his life tended to usually end up as cruel disappointment. L's reaction was nothing new, except for one little fact… the end of their amity was the beginning of another chapter, one where a different ray of hope now shone.

Justice.

The cold, merciless, uncompromising blade of Justice.

The young man wanted to chuckle with relief, give out a full-blown laugh for all the trouble the little pest had caused him and all the hope he had now instilled in his nemesis, but he didn't.

Instead, he awarded the detective with a radiant smile and shook his hand. "The pleasure is all mine but perhaps you shouldn't have revealed such sensitive information to me, knowing who _I am_," he finished conspiringly.

Let him make what he wanted out of that.

It could be because he was part of the yakuza or, as L would probably surmise, because he was Kira.

It did not matter.

L was finally on his case and the end was upon him.

Relieved, resigned, as though a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulder, he sat down upon his seat, not paying any attention to his companion. It was quite unfortunate that L still had no proof and as long as the detective could not touch him, Raito would not give up the fight.

He would only confess his crimes and face his deserved punishment when his charges and the evidence were _all _laid upon the table. He would not let a corrupt, inefficient system finish him.

He still had some of his pride left.

And so, with a silly pleased grin on his face, he carefully planned out his next steps. He had promised that he would not go against L, but who ever said he would make the task any easier for his so-called nemesis?

Behind him, Ryuk was dancing a little gig to show his glee at the strange new development.

All in all, L presenting himself today was an all-around win-win situation.

* * *

L glumly watched his suspect as everyone left the Nippon Budokan at the end of the ceremony. Kira was socialising, _socialising_ with all the various officials as though he had not a care in the world – as though the destruction of his speech and the subsequent revelation (that he had _L_ catching onto him) were the least of his concerns.

L felt rather insulted.

He really needed cake or ice cream. Preferably both.

He did not know what to make of Kira's reaction. The mass murderer had actually seemed _content_, _relieved_ with the situation. He had actually appeared more stressed and off-balanced before his introduction. It was the worst of all possible insults.

L really hated the bastard.

And then, what _had_ he meant by that last statement? Was he simply taunting him, knowing how close the detective was to catching him, but willing to risk his freedom by throwing out that tempting but oh-so-ambiguous statement? Like a cruel owner would to his starving dog?

Damn him.

The investigator would be sure to make the youth eat his words, if possible, with him watching the show holding onto a huge bowl of caramel popcorn.

That would teach the little bastard.

Finally, after what seemed to be an interminable amount of time, the serial killer headed out and L followed behind him sullenly, hands in his jean pockets and shuffling his dirty sneakers all the way.

Feeling the detective trailing him, Kira turned around. "Ryuuga-kun. Thank you for today."

L's blank eyes stared back at him, unsure of how to respond. "No, thank you."

"Well, I'll see you around on campus and best of luck on your projects." He sincerely-_insincerely_ wished.

As his bodyguard followed him into the limousine, the insomniac overheard him ask his charge who that suspicious-looking fellow was. Kira's response, 'An interesting person', had L grinding his teeth.

He crawled into his own car and had he been able, he would have slammed the door behind him. Instead, Watari gently closed it – with no regards for his negative feelings.

_Damn him. He played me like a fool._

He bit into his thumb, actually attempting to draw blood. _Kira, you bastard… I have never been this humiliated in my life._

His fingers tightened around his shins. He wanted to scream and rage but this was not the place. He did not need Watari's worry.

This battle was between Kira and him.

To actually taunt him like that, by waving sensitive information before him like it was nothing – when it could be everything _or nothing_ –

He knew Kira was cruel and this simply proved it.

L might have been slightly unreasonable when he had stated that he was 99 certain of Kira's identity, but his interaction with the yakuza confirmed it. Takamiya _must be_ Kira. His pride and instincts would not let it be otherwise.

But then – no, he had to be calm and reasonable.

Kira was simply toying with him. Just like he had in the forum, twisting his feelings around as though they were a mere game.

Well, if Kira would bother with such tactics, then that meant he had nothing on L and was simply trying to unsettle him. He did not, could not know L's identity.

Fine. If that was the game Kira wanted to play, then fine.

On the surface, the two will be the best of friends, but underneath it all, they would constantly be trying to gain the upper hand on the other.

_Interesting Takamiya, if you want a friend, then go ahead. I'm sure we'll get along just fine._

"Ah yes L, Aiber and Wedy have arrived."

The grin on his face widened.

_Then, I'll find out everything about you Kira and send you to your executioner._

* * *

**A/N**: LOL. Turnabout is fair play!

Anyway, sorry for the very late update but I've been submerged by exams and then by my summer job. Not to mention my extracurricular activities. So yeah… But at least I have the entire arc planned out! Great, neh? (and Recipe for Insanity seems to be very amused by it all)

Well, thank you guys so much for the kind reviews and criticisms. As you can see, I've posted a summary of L's reasoning in my livejournal but I also decided to elaborate on it in this chapter, but from the inspectors' POV. Hope it was clear. I really took your advice into account.

As for the speech… Well, L wasn't reading a blank page – as some of you have noticed from the anime – but this is just as bad. grin If not worse.

Once again, review if you feel the inclination to. I love to hear about what you guys have to say, whether they are criticisms or just pure squealing.

And I really must extend a huge thanks to Recipe for Insanity for all her help in this chapter! Thank you so so much!!

Okay, so see you all next time!

Edited 01/06/08 (Recipe for Insanity)


	13. Of French and Flatterers

_Author's note: Before anyone complains, I would just like to say that understanding the untranslated French passages is not necessary for your overall comprehension because I have PARAPHRASED what was said in the following paragraphs. Complete translation can be found on my lj._

Chapter 12

Of French and Flatterers

* * *

_**December 31**__**st**__** 2000**_

_He is dead. Dead. He is dead._

_Il est mort._

A quick gulp of sake to wash away the truth but the slight buzz did nothing. Reality could not be so easily denied and the words kept echoing in his head like some cold cruel mantra, viciously taunting him.

Somehow, as his drinking progressed, externalities one by one melted away, leaving him only with that single cold cruel truth.

_Laurent Carbone est mort hier à 21h30__._

He took another mouthful. Maybe a bit more alcohol would do.

"_Monsieur Takamiya, __je sais que cet appel est plutôt soudain, mais… Laurent Carbone est mort._

"_C'était un accident stupide. Alors qu'il retournait chez lui hier soir, un chauffard – ivre l'a renversé. _

"_Non, il n'a pas souffert. Il est mort instantanément._

"_Je sais qu__e vous vous êtes distancé de Monsieur Carbone après l'Incident, mais il aurait apprécié que vous soyez à ses funérailles._

"_Oui, bien sûr, vous êtes un ho__mme très occupé ces jours-ci. Mais vous ferez votre possible? Merci._

"_Elles __auront lieu la fin de semaine prochaine, le samedi 6 Janvier à…" _

The call had come hours ago, informing him about – Laurent Carbone's death. Hit by a drunk driver as he was returning home the previous night. Instantly dead.

At least he did not suffer.

But that one little detail did not ease the pain in Hiroto's heart. He was not even certain if he would be able to attend the funeral. Though he could probably tie up most of his businesses and free the upcoming weekend, the yakuza knew he would never find it within himself to go.

The pain was still too fresh – the sense of loss still there though it had been three decades since the _Incident_ that had ruined it all.

Hiroto quickly poured himself another glass, his hands trembling at the simple action – from the alcohol or the reminiscence, he was not sure which. Nevertheless, despite the drink's soothing burn as it flowed down his throat, it did not stop the river of memories from pouring out.

_The breeze coming from the Mediterranean Sea teased him gently as it ruffled his short black hair and the canopy's cloth flaps. It carried with it the smell of opportunities of a land so foreign and far from his own. Though he was now away from home, it did not mean he could slow down his relentless pursuit. Since his little coup-d'état three years back, he had been aggressively expanding his territory and his group's sources of revenue._

_Already, the largest syndicates had started to monopolise the underworld. Ever since the Summit Strategy in the early 1960s, the police's attitude towards their own brand of mafia had changed. They started initiating various crackdowns that mostly targeted traditional yakuza crimes such as gambling and extortion. In such an environment, the weakest groups had been forced to disband. They had been swiftly weeded out; their territory gobbled up by their more powerful counterparts._

_Meanwhile, these larger syndicates had flourished. Forced to diversify, their own influence grew to encompass new domains previously untouched by the yakuza. Within such a climate, newcomers such as Takamiya Hiroto had very little breathing space._

_But the up-and-coming yakuza was persistent and he was astute. He knew how to work the situation to his advantage and in the end, it had paid off. In very little time, he had persuaded other struggling groups to join his own, promising them survival and prosperity. And he had delivered._

_Always a few steps ahead of his rivals, Hiroto never feared investing in potentially risky ventures. He knew his limits and he knew where the wind blew. The economy and society were changing. Hiroto made sure to constantly stay ahead of their needs. It was for this reason he travelled so much around the continent, constantly seeking new contacts and slowly establishing his network of informants among the natives. These unstable countries were ideal to exploit._

_It was also for this reason he was now in Marseille. Though he had already approached La Cosa Nostra and the various Sicilian Families, that particular brand of organised crime did not hold the information he needed. While they were quite powerful in their own right, the Italian mafia found itself far too many times under the public scrutiny for Hiroto's liking._

_No, he was far more interested with their elusive suppliers, the masterminds behind the French Connection._

_The Unione Corse._

They _were the ones responsible for the traffic of opium and its derivatives into the States. Hiroto was determined to create as secure a route in Asia – but for amphetamines._

_He took another careful sip from his cup of coffee, scrunching his nose at its bitterness. He would never learn to appreciate these Westerners' strange taste. Though their so-called tea was slightly better, it in no way measured up to the poorest brew back home._

_Pushing his large sunglasses up his nose, he leaned back further on his chair to better appreciate the café's seaside view. His contact should be here any minute now. There was no way the man could miss him. After all, he was the only foreigner here, the only Asian, the only Japanese._

_A novelty, as some would casually point out._

_And then, as though answering his mental summons, a shadow appeared next to him. A devilish young man of his age stood at his side. He was dressed in a clean-cut suit – as was proper of a 'vrai Monsieur' – and his dark, almost black, hair neatly framed his handsome, though foreign, face. He presented Hiroto with a gloved hand._

_The yakuza shook it._

"_Monsieur Takamiya?__ J'ai entendu dire que vous cherchiez les milieux à visiter à Marseille. Si vous le voulez bien, je serai votre guide durant votre séjour." __(_I heard that you were looking for all the locations – _milieu_ – to visit at Marseille. If it pleases you, I will be your guide during your stay._)_

_Hearing the code and quickly noticing the use of the word 'milieu' (a term that referred to the recognized members of the Unione Corse), Hiroto responded in kind, silently thanking all the time he had spent in the old French colonies: his constant voyages through Indochina had the welcome side effect of improving his mastery over the language. __"Il est vrai que je connais très peu le milieu. Je serais ravi de recevoir l'aide d'un vrai Homme. " (_It is true I know very little about the milieu. I will be glad to receive the help of a True Man – of a Man of Honour._)_

_The smile that broke the Frenchman's face was breathtaking. __"Ce serait un plaisir de vous aider," he breathed out. "Ah oui, avant de continuer, il faudrait bien que je me présente." __He executed a mock bow. "Laurent Carbone à votre service." (_It would pleasure to help you. Ah yes, before I continue, I should introduce myself. Laurent Carbone at your service._)_

_Laurent Carbone._

The grandson of Paul Carbone, the founder of the French underworld, of the Unione Corse. Though he was not one of the leading members of any of the ruling Marseille Clans, the youth still held much influence within the milieu.

Hiroto had spent his three far-too-short months in France with the man and within him, he had found a kindred soul. They shared the same ambitions, the same shrewdness and most importantly, the same ruthlessness. They had spent all their time conspiring together, conducting the Unione Corse's business in each other's company. Together, they had killed, threatened, and blackmailed.

And unknown to the other mobsters, they had also sketched out a potential alliance that would take place between their two organisations – after they'd each done their part and individually gained enough money, power and influence in the international underworld.

Most remarkable though was that in that short while, Hiroto had discovered that he had fallen in love.

But the feeling was taboo and he never spoke of it. Men were not supposed to love men. The stigma attached to homosexuality might not have been too severe in Japan but in France, in Europe… Hiroto dared not voice his feelings.

It would have destroyed their friendship.

After those three months, the yakuza had left Europe with slight regret but had been determined to build his empire and see their envisioned coalition to fruition. However, while Hiroto had kept to that course, Laurent had deviated from it and broken their vow.

'_Je crois que je suis amoureux. __Oui. Difficile à croire non? Mais je crois, non, je suis certain que je suis amoureux d'Elle. Sylvie._

'_La fille d'un simple boulanger.'_

The idiot, the love-struck fool had fallen in love with a mere peasant, the daughter of a local baker. At the thought, Hiroto's grip around the fragile porcelain cup tightened and he downed the liquid in one gulp.

Laurent had fallen in love with a silly little twit who will had never learn to appreciate Laurent's fierce beauty, his vicious mind and torturous tongue. He had given it all up, his future, his life, _him_ for the girl. As soon as he had received the letter filled with the French's exaltations on that bitch, Hiroto had wanted to tear the paper to shreds.

But he had not.

He could never bear to destroy anything that had come from Laurent.

And so, the yakuza had attended the wedding, had offered his congratulations to the 'happy' couple, to the oblivious bride. He had witnessed a wolf turned into a sheep, as Laurent left the Unione Corse behind.

But the mafia, or to be precise, his past misdeeds, would not leave him and by separating himself from the milieu, Laurent had lost its protection.

It was the perfect time to strike back and seek revenge. A deranged businessman who had lost everything to the mobster had shot him. Driven by grief, he had shot the _reformed_ mobster multiple times and then turned the gun against his own self. He had died instantaneously, before anyone could exact revenge on the coward.

As soon as Hiroto had heard the news, he had dropped his current workload and hurried back to France, to Laurent's side.

Luckily, despite how critical his _friend_'s condition had been, despite how many times his heart had stopped beating, the stubborn fool had survived though he had lost the use of his legs.

But that was not all. That was not the worst.

Laurent had forgotten everything. When he awakened from coma, the depth of the damage to his nervous system had become apparent. He had forgotten all the details from his previous life, his old occupation. Hiroto gave a bitter chuckle as he poured himself yet another glass of rice wine.

The French had tried to erase all signs of his past in his attempt to integrate into his normal civilian life. Well, he had certainly succeeded in that regards and in the process, he had shown how much he needed Hiroto by _forgetting him._

It had been the final blow and as soon as the words escaped his lips, _"Enchanté de faire votre connaissance Monsieur Takamiya."_, the yakuza had left to catch the first available flight. His presence clearly was not required. _(It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Mister Takamiya._

From that day forward, he had never seen nor heard from his old partner again. He had maintained a steady contact with the Unione Corse, who had ever since retreated further underground, driven into deeper concealment by the action of law enforcements worldwide. Even though the French Connection had been dismantled and their heroin empire had collapsed, they remained just as powerful and useful an 'ally', though a covert one.

Additionally, though Laurent had left and forgotten about them, they still surreptitiously watched over their old member and provided Hiroto with occasional updates on his situation. It was all the news his frozen heart could stand.

In the intervening years, the oyabun had kept that particularly painful fragment of his path locked away. He had not dared visit that specific set of memories as he had moved on in his life.

Or so he had thought…

As he emptied one glass of rice wine after the other, he could not help but wonder how great a hold Laurent's ghost still had on him.

Or perhaps it was simply the sake talking.

* * *

His steps swayed, one after the other, as he stalked down the corridors of his own house. Another foot forward; his hand held onto the wall for support. He tiredly shook his head, trying to shake away the drink's effect.

He had drunk far too much. His head was buzzing.

It was the first time alcohol had affected him so aversely but at least the hallways were empty. No one would witness his unwilling fall from – grace.

He stumbled another few steps forward. His body felt strangely heavy. So, so peculiar.

His right leg awkwardly crossed in front of his left one and he tripped on himself. Hiroto gave a slight laugh, amused despite himself at his uncharacteristic clumsiness. This experience was all so odd.

He really shouldn't have let his silly grief overtake him. It wasn't as though Laurent had any right to affect him after all these years – after he had rejected him. No, better to focus on the present and all its possibilities.

Once again, he pressed his hand against the door for support but as it gave in under his weight, he suddenly noticed that it was not as stable as he had thought. He frowned, looking at the surprisingly open door in confusion.

After a moment, his eyes lit up with understanding. _Ah yes… Raito's room. _There was no lock installed on his door and tonight, it seemed the youth had forgotten to close it.

Hiroto smiled fondly at the thought. _His sweet little angel…_ _His and no one else's._

Without any further prompting, he made his way into the small space. Though better furnished than the 'cell' in the headquarters in which he had at first kept his protégé, it still had very few personal effects. Only a bed and a closet for his clothes. The door at the corner led to a small bathroom.

Another two or three steps brought him to Raito's side. He leaned across the bed, drinking in the sight before him. The youth lay curled up in his blankets, the top of his pyjama twisted around him and revealing his collarbone oh-so-temptingly. Hiroto felt heat rise up in him as it had never done before – another effect of alcohol?

He did not spare his sudden discomfort anymore thought. His fingers unconsciously started wandering down the youth's torso, revelling in the smoothness of his skin.

_So… so beautiful and all his. His to explore, his to mould, his to do as he desired._

His eyes blinked at that revelation, his consciousness catching up to the fleeting musing. _How very true…_

Raito was entirely his. He had raised him, he had shaped him, nurtured his potential when it would simply have been left to waste away had he stayed with his biological family. Raito was his in every sense of the word; his to do as he pleased.

And why ever should he have to worry about what anyone else would think of his actions? It wasn't as though he had to report to them. He sneered. No, useless. Useless to repress his cravings, useless to forget about his own desires. When had his own caution ever done him any good?

Satisfied with the direction of that thought, he twirled the soft strand around his digit. The youth before him was beautiful and his for the taking. He. Would. Not. _Lose. Him._

His fingers abruptly tightened around the brunet's hair, almost yanking the silky curls out. At the sudden pain at his temple, Raito woke up with a start. His eyes flew wide open, panicking and confused.

Hiroto did not notice.

No, all he saw were the two possibilities sprawling before him. He knew what choice he had to make. He must not repeat his stupid mistake. Not when he was given this second chance.

No. His grin widened and his starved eyes thoroughly appraised Raito's sinfully lithe form.

He must not hesitate.

Not when the one laying before him, offering himself so temptingly was so much better than the original.

Raito was his, where Laurent was a free soul – free to do as he pleased. Raito had been forced to grow and embrace the underworld where Laurent had left it. Raito was everything Laurent was, and everything he was not. He was perfect.

And he was his.

He could not, must not let him repeat his predecessor's mistakes. He must not let Raito leave the mafia; he must not let Raito leave him. Not when such devastating consequences lay ahead of such paths.

There was so much at stake here and Hiroto knew that this time, he had made the right choice. Damn the consequences. Raito was simply begging to be his. He had to be, with the way he blinked his eyes in startled confusion, the way he lay there so irresistibly.

It was about time he staked his claim.

Without pause, he pulled the teenager into a tight embrace. When Raito parted his lips – to protest? To welcome him maybe? – the oyabun instantly took advantage of the granted access. His tongue possessively marked the territory as his.

Yet, as soon as Hiroto began on his mouth, the youth started squirming against him. The yakuza immediately grabbed his two hands. He pushed Raito back onto the bed. His greater mass kept the boy still and his struggling minimal.

But he would take no risk. While still pressed against the youth's wiry frame, with his left hand holding the two wrists tightly, unmercifully, he impatiently tugged off his silk tie and carefully fastened them to the bed.

Satisfied, he relaxed and took his time as he made sure to fully savour his flavour. His mouth slowly trailed kisses down the slowly revealing form, his fingers impatiently unfastening the cumbersome pyjama top, and then tugging off the bottom. The boxers soon joined the latter on the floor.

He took a quiet moment to silently admire his possession. His eyes were dark with lust and desire. He licked his lips.

_This was his. His. All HIS._

_Could not, must not let him go._

Caught in his exaltation, he paid no heed to Raito's still furious, though barely perceptible struggles. He did not see how the teenager's face was turned away, burying his face into his pillow when Hiroto bent down to delectably devour his neck.

He was blind to all of it. His entire being was consumed by one furious, anxious need.

He needed to stake his claim, his ownership of Raito on that enticing skin before he lost him forever.

No matter the cost.

* * *

_A Prince, therefore, ought always to take counsel, but at such times and seasons only as he himself pleases, and not when it pleases others …_

* * *

_**April 5**__**th**__** 2004**_

Raito looked down at the man standing before him with barely concealed contempt. The fifty-year-old owner of a small company had his back to them as he shakily opened his refrigerator door to retrieve a bottle of beer. His hand was trembling around the label.

"I… can't you please give me a bit more time," he mumbled, turning towards them pleadingly. "Just another month or two. I promise I'll have the money by then. Things aren't," he looked down at the ground, "going that well now but I'm currently working on a deal and if it does –"

His regained vigour was immediately halted when Raito merely raised an eyebrow at him. The youth's sinewy form leaned over the kitchen table, with his two hands pressed on its surface. Dressed in a black suit and surrounded by the kitchen's overall darkness, he looked like the grim reaper, threateningly looming over his prey.

"Was that not what you promised last month?" He drawled. The youngster tilted his head to a side. His hair fell attractively away from his forehead. "If my memory is correct, which I assure you it is, you again promised the same four months ago. My patience is slowly running out."

"Yes, yes! You only have to wait a month more! One month, I promise!"

"But your debt has already risen to 20 million yen and I seriously doubt your pathetic deal will ever be able to pull you through. He looked at Emori over the rim of his sunglasses. "So," his eyes glinted sharply in the dingy apartment's – a true representation of the businessman's current situation – shadowed kitchen, "when exactly are you going to run away with your wife? Or were you thinking of abandoning her to deal with you debts, _Emori-san_?"

The soon-to-be ex-president's eyes widened and his pupils dilated with fear. "Of course I wouldn't run away! I take my debts very seriously. If you will only give me a bit more time." He placed the bottle on the table after his unsteady hands failed to twist the cap off. Instead, he headed towards the drawer at Raito's side, fretfully nibbling his lips the entire way. Behind his dark shades, the yakuza rolled his eyes. The fool was probably looking for a bottle opener. But if he thought alcohol could actually help him or bolster his confidence, then he was seriously delusional.

"Of course not." Raito drawled as he fell down elegantly on his chair, watching the way Emori nervously scurried around the room like a cat would to his mouse. "Perhaps you will choose the more honourable course and commit seppuku." His two bodyguards, Kohashi and Hagino, snickered by the doorway, as they looked into the scene amusedly. They were used to Raito's mind games and the way he toyed with his prey, constantly prodding at their weakness until they capitulated. "But that would leave your lovely wife alone, with 20 million yen hanging over her head, and your poor parents…" He clicked his tongue for a few seconds.

Then, to further emphasize his contempt for the disgrace before him, Raito turned his head away. "But I wouldn't be surprised if you simply throw their teachings away. You are getting there already. There are only – what? Four, five centimetres? Your hands are clearly straining from the temptation." He shot the man an amused look. "Tell me, are you truly planning on using that knife?"

"I – I – you –" And then Emori's expression shut as he gritted his teeth with determination. His foolish lunge got him nowhere however. Raito had long since predicted his response.

In the time it had taken the businessman to make his decision, the youth had risen from his seat and had started moving against him. When the elder man lifted the blade, Raito was already before him, disarming him. It took only a second for the kitchen knife to be turned against its master.

The yakuza's hold on the executive was tight, his arms unmercifully wrapped around his victim. The razor edge was now pressed against Emori's neck. The forty-year-old was quivering with fear against the teenager.

It was necessary to occasionally remind their 'clients' of the mafia's power.

"There is a price for every action. It is about time you pay for your recklessness." He delivered one swift punch into the fool's guts and then loosened his hold as the man crumpled on the floor. "One simply does not mess with the yakuza and expect to get away with it."

After throwing him one last look of disgust, he turned his back from Emori and moved aside for his subordinates to do their part. His gloved hand quickly proceeded to dust off his captive's presence from his still pristine suit.

And then, he leaned back against the peeling wall to 'enjoy' the show, his mind muting away the businessman's pleas for mercy. His incessant calls to Raito's generosity and other 'wonderful' qualities were wasted on his cold heart. Neither did they reach Kohashi and Hagino's ears. The two yakuza spared nothing as they beat the well-deserved lesson into their victim.

Behind his sunglasses, Raito carefully catalogued every single whimper of pain, crack of bones and gasp of air that escaped the indebted man. They would all be analysed later, in the privacy of his room.

Unknown to his companions, the grim smile discreetly adorning his lips had nothing at all to do with the bloody spectacle he was witnessing.

One day, Raito too would face his judgement. L was at last closing in on him.

* * *

_**April 6**__**th**__** 2004**_

Quillish Wammy was at a loss. Such occurrences were rather rare and usually, he managed to pull through with little help. But this time, it was personal.

He was used to dealing with the unknown, with danger. They were all part of his job description as Watari, the greatest detective in the world's one and only intermediate.

He was also used to dealing with geniuses' capricious moods and eccentricities. After all, he was the founder of an orphanage dedicated to training them.

He was not used to, however, watching L entirely lose control of himself. He had seen the boy at his best and at his worse; he had watched the little prodigy grow into the man he was today. He knew all of his foundling's quirks, what made him tick and what brought him pleasure.

And yet, he had never caught a glimpse of the storm of emotions that lay underneath that icy, apathetic surface… _until now_. For so long, Quillish had believed that the way he had decided to raise the boy had wiped out every trace of L's humanity. With profound regret and guilt, he had watched the inquisitive, though emotionless, child turn into a robot living only for the challenge of solving intricate cases.

To witness his long-repressed personality emerge would have been a cause for celebration under any other circumstance. He would have been on his knees, thanking the person who had miraculously drawn L out of his shell, had it been anyone but _Kira_.

Had the emotions he now beheld been _anything_ but anger, bitterness and a deep sense of betrayal.

Whether Takamiya Raito had truly intended to toy with L in the way the detective so firmly believed– Quillish highly doubted the youth had planned it to play out that way – did not matter. It was the consequences that derived from his multiple deceptions that were unforgivable.

Kira, Kirin and Raito. Three personas wrapped around one person. The teenager had probably thought it amusing to adorn so many masks and through them, experience different lives. Countless, including L, found such a concept thrilling and Quillish was certain the young killer felt the same. It must have been exhilarating for the eighteen-year-old to slither around unnoticeably between his various existences, subtly pulling the strings.

What the adolescent had never thought of, however, were the repercussions. He had never considered what would happen should his ruse be revealed, of the pain it would cause his real father, and the turmoil his sham would throw into L's normally orderly thoughts.

It was this particular brand of thoughtlessness that incurred Quillish's ire.

The detective might have thought him clueless, but the inventor had known of the friend L had found over the Internet, though he had remained discrete on the matter. He had watched with concealed pleasure as the private investigator opened up – though not to him or to anyone he had actually met.

It had been a mistake however.

And now, L was far too emotionally involved, far too bitter to truly think things through when dealing with Kira. He no longer detachedly and logically examined all the facts, instead concentrating all his efforts on pursuing his suspect. His temper was short; his nerves were frayed. A few times already, he had been on the verge of snapping at Matsuda for his endless inquiries.

Add his state of mind to his usual reluctance to dealing with people… it was a train wreck in the making. L should not be heading to Toudai. He was not calm enough to confront Kira.

But he was stubborn and nothing Quillish could say would ever change his mind.

He turned his car before the school's entrance. "We are here Ryuuga." He told him as he opened the door.

Without a word, the genius merely shuffled out of the vehicle. Watching his hunched form move past the gates and glare at the seniors previously merrily approaching him, Watari sighed.

L definitely was not ready for this.

* * *

L should have mentally prepared himself for the chaos awaiting him at the school gates. He should have predicted the hordes of seniors eagerly crowding the school entrance – especially after _Kira_'s warning.

But he had not. He had spent the entire afternoon and subsequent night brooding on his disastrous first meeting with the two-faced bastard, dealing with the task force and the irritation called _Matsuda_ and then, after that particular group had left, he had plotted with Aiber, Wedy and Misora. Fully aware of the fuss the NPA members would have raised should they ever learn that the best detective in the world occasionally worked with criminals, he had met the two in secret, only accompanied by the ex-FBI agent. She would become his main contact with the pair.

It had been a long night.

It was no wonder that L was in such a crabby mood. He had never been forced to spend so much time face to face with others (who – to make matters worse – constantly questioned and challenged him).

And now this.

Behind his scruffy hair, L rolled his eyes. He did not need to deal with more fools. He had already warned the batch yesterday of his utter disinterest in them. It was such a shame that the seniors had not attended the ceremony. The detective hated repeating himself.

Irritated beyond measure, he instead sent a full-blown glare to the _sempai_ who had been cheerfully bouncing her way towards him, seconds from shoving one of her blue flyers into his face. His scathing glower effectively stopped her in her tracks.

It did not take long for the others to catch on and soon enough, none dared approach the anti-social 'freak'. He did not care how they labelled him. His only concern was Kira. Now, if only he could find the mass murderer.

The carnival taking place before him simply did not help matters.

Because students were only allowed to participate in circles and varsities while they attended university, there was always a rush in April to convince the newcomers of joining their clubs. Replenishing these associations with fresh blood was essential for their continual existence. With the spectacle currently sprawling before L's bottomless eyes, it seemed as though the rumours were true: shinkan was particularly active and aggressive in Toudai.

All around the school plaza, small groups had set up stands and posters describing the various virtues of their particular circle. Seniors wearing their team jersey were tailing the arriving freshmen and presenting them with a pamphlet on their specific group. At one side, a few students were actually juggling. Why anyone would want to participate in such a useless pastime was beyond the detective's understanding.

With so many people dashing back and forth, it appeared as though the task of finding Kira would be near impossible. It would be like finding a needle in a haystack. Unless…

L smirked at the thought that suddenly occurred to him.

No, Kira would never be as crude or mundane as a simple needle: he was the _magnet_ that drew all those poor needles to him. Where the crowd was particularly dense, the charismatic killer was sure to be at its center, ready to seduce his audience to his wily ways.

Resolute, L turned left where lines of stalls have been set up around the footpath. With the hordes of students trying to pass through (and all the ones preventing or stalling them from doing so), it was a walking nightmare.

And it seemed that Kira had not even managed to set his foot into the madness before his fans had converged upon him with their various requests.

"Takamiya-kun, are you interested in videogames? From what I've overheard about your speech, I thought you might like to –"

"The debating club would be perfect for you! As you said, we must learn to think for ourselves and –"

"Gardening –"

"You must join the boat race team! It is the one club to be in!"

Despite the cacophony that reigned around him, Kira's clear voice rang through, pure and crystalline against the background noise. "As interesting as all your offers seem, I think it would be better if you each waited your turn before explaining. I'm sorry. My ears are not as selective as they used to be. Now, you were saying something about aikido. Though I have not –"

As he turned to address the delegate from a martial art varsity, the other club representatives all got themselves organised around the killer as though by magic. L watched in amazement as they lined up without fuss and patiently awaited their turn. The naïve would have attributed their sudden compliance to the respect Kira gave them and the novelty of actually being listened – instead of being irritatingly brushed away. But L knew better.

The answer to their sudden change of heart lay in the way their arrogant audience so skilfully played and manipulated them.

Standing amidst but apart from them, Kira looked like a ruler, calmly listening through his horde of supplicants. He summarily dismissed them, one after the other, after they had satisfyingly presented their case. The one element that disrupted this imagery though was that the mass murderer passed no judgement. He did not make any decision _yet_. After all, Kira would only lend his highly demanded presence to those he considered worthy and useful to his cause. It would not do for him to be hasty.

After what seemed like an eternity, the crowd died down and L finally approached his suspect. The detective refused to join the masses. He would not give the psychopath an excuse to effectively 'discharge' the detective from his presence.

"Cannot get rid of your swarm of flatterers fast enough, can you Takamiya?"

"Ah, Ryuuga-kun," he said, smiling. No sign of irritation showed through the fraud's placid exterior. "I was wondering when you would finally join me. You do not like crowds much, right?" He nonchalantly asked, probably noticing the way L awkwardly moved through the crowd in order to avoid bumping into any constituent of the flock of students.

"No and I cannot profess to understand Takamiya's willingness to indulge them. It isn't as though one with your background needs more sycophants."

"And you would know, wouldn't you? It must be wonderful to never doubt the rightfulness of your path."

_And there it was, as expected. A subtle dig at my own situation in order to justify his own actions as Kira and a yakuza heir._

"But then, this is not about gaining followers." With a slight nod of thanks, Kira took the flyer a senior presented him and neatly added it to the stack he held after giving it a quick glance. American football varsity. "I am sure these people deserve better than becoming another's toady." He softly told the detective walking at his side. "I look forward to pitting my opinions against theirs."

_And here is the reference to his pastime as Kirin. Always one to go for the kill._

"Then Takamiya believes they can measure up to him?"

"Perhaps. The two of us might have finished with the highest score but there is more to life than sheer intellect," he cocked his head to one side and thoughtfully looked up at the sky. "Had that not been the case, than an entirely different set of politicians would have been governing Japan."

"Does Takamiya have aspirations of becoming a dictator?" L asked, carefully observing his suspect's reactions from the corner of his eye. "I am sure Takamiya would manage. He has the charisma and intelligence necessary to wrap the masses around his little finger." He mechanically tapped his index on his chin as he said those words.

Kira's sinful lips quirked up in amusement. "Me? I am honoured that you would think so highly of my abilities but no mere human should ever have that much control."

_Defence manoeuvre. Not an exact denial but you escaped contradicting your own beliefs by citing 'human'. Kira no longer believes he is a _mere human_._

"True, true." L nodded his head sagely. The silence that followed, though not awkward, was tense with anticipation. Kira did not seem bothered by it as he took advantage of L's quiet to collect some more club advertisements.

* * *

Raito spared L a quick glance before refocusing his attention on the president of some club dedicated to raising awareness on the injustice around the world – or something of the sort. The man had been rambling on the subject ever since he had managed to ambush the pair. Although Raito would have usually paid or feigned more interest on the issue (it was always good to keep an eye on the enemy – after all, the yakuza had contributed its fair share to the inequity in the third world), he was currently too preoccupied by the detective at his side.

Now that he had finally met L in person, he no longer knew what to make of him. After re-examining their first meeting, Raito must confess that he was disappointed.

Not in his sloppy appearance, though it was quite disgraceful. Everyone was allowed their own eccentricities. Not in his strange quirks either.

No, it was the man's unprofessional behaviour that irritated the yakuza. Raito had not noticed this significant failing at first, far too elated by his encroaching judgement. It was only in the dead of the night, as he passed his day in his head once more that it occurred to him.

L had no reason to appear before him. It would serve no purpose for the detective to reveal himself and the depth of his knowledge so soon. In fact, it would only increase the risks he was exposed to had Kira truly been after him. Even if his sudden appearance was supposed to provoke Raito into making a mistake, the way he went about it was too extreme, flawed.

The youth's initial assessment had been correct. The detective had acted out of spite; he had warped his speech for revenge. Such a reaction would have been understandable from any other person _but L_. The detective should have known better.

He should not have let his emotions blind him.

Instead, L should have approached Raito incognito. He should have sought out friendship, not enmity. He should have tried to worm his way into Raito's trust by calling to his intelligence and curiosity.

As the yakuza glanced once more at the detective shuffling at his side, it seemed as though he was trying to correct his mistake now. But it was too late. Their initial encounter had already revealed his true intentions and warned the killer of his impending execution.

It had given Raito time to collect himself and prepare.

And even this façade of friendship he seemed intent on constructing did nothing to hide his animosity. His subtle barbs and inquiries betrayed him on that front.

Or perhaps it was all a show, designed to confuse his enemy and drive him into the dangers of overconfidence. Raito really hoped it was so.

Sighing, the youth ran his fingers through his hair to brush them back in place. He was all too aware of the pair of eyes following his every movement.

In the end, it did not matter. Whatever his tactics were, Raito will simply play along with them. He was willing to indulge the detective as long as it did not interfere with his own plans.

He had his own set of responsibilities to handle and as long as L held no definite proof of his identity as Kira, then they would remain the eighteen-year-old's main priority.

L could tag along for all he cared.

* * *

"Perhaps Takamiya should accept his offer. Your _unique_ situation gives you a distinct view on the exploitation of workers from third world countries," L told him snidely.

"Perhaps I will." Kira answered with a slight shrug. "But what about you? I have not seen you show any interest in any circle. Am I to remain your only acquaintance in Toudai? That would lead to a very lonely four years."

L's eyes impossibly widened. "Is Takamiya trying to get rid of me? And just when I thought I would do him a favour."

"A favour?"

"Yes…" The detective extracted one of his gangly hands from his jean pockets to point at a kiosk sitting a bit apart from the rest and away from the hustle and bustle of the crowds. "I would think someone like Takamiya would appreciate seeing others take an initiative in complex ethical issues like the Kira case."

Kira's pretty eyes frowned.

"Or do you disapprove?"

It took exactly thirteen seconds before the killer replied and his face resumed its pleasant demeanour. "No, of course not."

* * *

"A club dedicated to the mass murderer Kira?" Teru's hackles immediately rose as he heard the defamation to God's name. He instantly turned away from the sophomore he had been talking to in order to give the impudent blasphemer a firm tongue lashing. The words stopped in his throat, however, as soon as he saw the one who had been addressing him. "I must commend your current action. It takes a lot of guts to pursue such a controversial endeavour."

"Takamiya-san," Teru breathed out in surprise. "I was quite – impressed by your speech yesterday. It is an honour to meet you in person. Are you perchance interested by Kira-sama's goal?" He worded his query carefully, despite his desire to jump right to the point. It would not do to be hasty if he wanted to recruit this brilliant speaker to his cause.

"Who in the world is not paying attention to this era's most notorious killer? I highly doubt you'd be able to encounter someone who does not know his name."

"Takamiya is incorrect," the haphazardly dressed man by the youth's side piped in. "Newborns and toddlers would not have heard of Kira."

Teru was stunned by the newest speaker's impertinence.

Yet, for some odd reason, Takamiya-san remained unfazed by the demonstration of disrespect. In fact, he actually chuckled at his 'companion's' unsolicited comment. But Teru did not let his irritation show. He had better manners than that unwashed ape and having Takamiya-san act so carefree was only to his advantage.

"Correct Ryuuga-kun." _So that was his name._ "It would be quite disturbing if Kira ever became a landmark in bedtime stories."

_But it would show His might. It will be beneficial for children to have acceptable morals and a strong sense of justice instilled in them since young._

_Must make a note of that idea._

"Knight L on a quest to save the world from the evil Kira, a monster who devours naughty children for breakfast." Ryuuga cocked his head to one side and behind his shaggy bangs, he blinked twice. "It has a strange ring to it."

The blood in Teru's veins boiled. "Or perhaps Prince Kira waging a war against the forces of evil that have gradually overwhelmed his kingdom, painstakingly purging it from spies and traitors like L."

"Kira trying to one-handedly take over the world, you mean." L added snidely.

"Or perhaps L somehow saving Kira from some evil dragon, after which they will all live happily ever after." Takamiya-san remarked in jest, rolling his eyes. "Either way, such oversimplifications of Kira would only lead to misunderstandings in the kid's mind. There is no such thing as 'Good' or 'Evil' – and in Kira's case in particular. We can only examine his intentions, his actions and judge him by them."

"Then Takamiya must believe Kira to be a hypocrite." The flat way Ryuuga pronounced that sentence hinted to something more – an inside joke perhaps?

Takamiya-san shrugged in response. A vague answer that said nothing.

He probably preferred to play it safe and support neither side of the argument to avoid offending his uninvited tagalong. Teru had no such compunctions.

"Better a righteous hypocrite than some cowardly fool. Despite his minute, _negligible_ flaws, Kira-sama is the epitome of everything we should strive for. You cannot begin to imagine how much he must have sacrificed for his cause. He is only one man, but a god amongst men. If we are to rid this world of its filth, then we have no choice but to follow his example. Anything less –"

"A grand task, but an impossible one." Ryuuga rudely cut in. "Sempai-kun is rather pretentious, labelling a portion of his contemporaries as filth who deserve to die. But if they are filth, then Kira-sama's worshippers would be weeds, selfish and ambitious." Despite his offensive words, his tone remained nonchalant, as though he were merely commenting on the weather.

"And you'll be –"

"– getting nowhere with this discussion." Takamiya-san sighed, tiredly rubbing his temples. "If you want an appropriate analogy to Kira's situation, then you will find it within the human body. No matter how strong the antibiotic, bacteria will always find a way to evolve and strike against its host. They merely grow stronger and more resistant after each attempt to eradicate them. In the end, Kira's justice is futile."

"Not if the medicine is strong enough. Not if Kira-sama is the true cure." Teru firmly stated. His knowledge in biology barely touched the field's surface, but he was convinced of the truth in his declaration.

"Are you proposing Kira and yourself to be this 'cure'?"

"Yes," he pushed his glasses back up his nose, and behind them, his eyes shone with fervour. "There is no greater goal than the attainment of justice. Kira-sama has already done his part by discouraging criminals worldwide and by stripping us of the veil covering our eyes. He has shown us how deeply the corruption ran. Now, it is our turn. We do not only aspire to follow Kira-sama's lead. We aim to anchor these changes into the system itself by reshaping the foundations of our society. We are the brightest minds of our generation and this is the only path ahead of us, if we are to salvage anything from our rotting world.

"That is our purpose."

The way Takamiya-san's eyes blanked after his statement had Teru momentarily worried. They had quickly turned away from him, as though to gaze upon a sight that was beyond mere mortals. When the two seemed to have bonded only minutes ago, the freshman now felt distant, untouchable.

The law student became uncertain of where the younger student truly stood on the Kira issue. Perhaps the uncompromising, _inflexible_ wording of their ambition had been too much. Perhaps he had scared the fledgling Kira-supporter away.

His fingers clenched into a fist. No. If Takamiya could not understand God's reasoning, then he was unworthy, despite his brilliance. It would be a shame but his club needed loyal followers dedicated to God.

When Takamiya-kun refocused his attention on him, there was a softness in his gaze that had Teru blink in confusion. "The path ahead of you will be a hard one. I might not fully support it but that does not mean I cannot help. When your ideas get out of hand and reality is no longer in sight, you will need someone to ground you back on Earth. I will be glad to offer my services in that regard." He brought his hand up. "As you know, I am Takamiya Raito."

Teru happily shook it. "Mikami Teru. Welcome onboard."

So he had been right all along. His worries were unfounded. Despite his show of neutrality, Takamiya-san did care about God's cause. He was simply unwilling to show it openly.

It did not matter. Before long, the freshman would shed the mistaken scruples that had been holding him back and embrace God's ideals. It was simply a matter of time.

Yet, despite his elation, his utter glee at the attainment of his goal, Teru did not miss the narrowing of Ryuuga's eyes at his companion's pronouncement, as they bore deeper into the brunet's back.

"If that is the case, then I will be the much needed opposition."

* * *

344 clubs and with his schedule as packed as it was, he would only have the time to join a handful.

344 clubs.

After closing the door behind him, Raito dropped his black messenger bag on the bed and bent down to retrieve the pile of flyers he had collected throughout the day. 344 clubs.

Pulling his chair out from under his desk, he turned on his computer and started absentmindedly flipping through the paper while waiting for it to load. His eyes were rapidly scanning through the brightly coloured sheets to remind himself of the association they each represented.

Careful consideration would be poured into every one of them.

These circles were the center of student life in Tokyo University and the ideal site for him to start building his web of connections. Only the most academically successful students were able to enter Toudai – only those with the brightest future ahead of them. It was no wonder a large number would become quite prominent in the future. If he could make allies out of them while they were still young and pliable (but most importantly, _unsuspecting_), then the Black Dragon would soon have a strong foothold in all the most important components of society. It was always useful to plan ahead.

However, with 344 clubs currently in existence, he would have to be very discerning. It was of course impossible to join all of them and with his life as busy as it currently was, he would have very little time to socialise. He thus had to make the most of the time he spent in the few chosen circles.

In order to complete his task, it became necessary for Raito to conduct a throughout check on the Internet on the clubs' history, their recent endeavours and most importantly, the members' background. He only required their public records, general knowledge, because it was that aspect of their life that Takamiya Raito would interact with.

Only later, when his choices have been narrowed down, would he start looking deeper.

It was a long and tedious process, but he would not skip out on it. Only one circle had managed to escape it however. Because of 'special circumstances', Mikami's Kira-oriented fellowship had been exempted from such a thorough perusal.

Then again, the yakuza's hasty decision had little to do with rationality, though the youth would never admit it out loud. He had acted entirely on gut instincts.

It had left Raito uneasy to see his so-called devotee do so much in his alter-ego's name. But he could not, would not contest his radical actions. It had been the man's choice. Kira might have inadvertently influenced his decision, but that did not mean he had the right to condemn the law student and his cohorts for it.

And although the youth had given up on humanity in general, he was glad others did not share his pessimism. And perhaps… through the actions of people like Mikami, some of it could be redeemed.

Raito shook his head. No. He was simply being wistful.

Still, despite his desire to remain distant from the senior, he had to keep an eye on the project he had unconsciously helped release. He had to make sure that the group stayed realistic and true to their path.

Power had a way of getting into people's head and with such lofty ambitions ahead of them, they might decide to sacrifice a couple of their morals for the 'Greater Good'. Raito would never allow such hypocrisy to take place - _again_. If they were to act, if they were to help society, then they had to think things through.

Similarly, Raito had to take responsibilities for his actions, for the group of revolutionaries that had been born from his crimes.

"Raito?" Ryuk whined, two feet behind him. Raito shot him an irritated look, annoyed by the interruption. He had expressly brought in a bowl of apples in the hope of keeping his invisible companion sufficiently occupied but it seemed that, with the abundance of sweet red orbs temptingly laying in front of him, the shinigami had been unable to refrain himself. He had probably gobbled up all the fruits in the short while it had taken the computer to load and the teenager's thoughts to wander off. "Weren't you going to check Interpol? I don't recognise your program here." He said, his gangly finger hovering dangerously close to the screen. The youth barely stopped himself from grabbing a napkin and wiping any possible fingerprints – did shinigami have any? – off.

"Of course you won't," Raito told him as he typed another name into Google's search bar. "I will be taking a break from my duties as Kira tonight. There is much research to be done before I join any club. You saw the number of offers I got today."

The god of death chortled. "They were like a pack of wild dogs around a particular tasty piece of meat."

The brunet cringed at the comparison. "Ye-es. And now I have to look into them individually."

"Couldn't you choose whichever one you like, like you've done with that Mikami fellow?"

"Mikami's is a special case."

Ryuk's wide smile exposed all his crooked teeth. "A special case, _eh_? Are you finally gonna take a greater interest in your followers? L's gonna love that."

"Still wishing for mayhem and bloodshed, Ryuk?" Raito exasperatedly quirked up his eyebrow as he twisted his chair around to better face his companion. "Wasn't today and yesterday's confrontations enough for you?"

"Maybe. But you're still not using the Death Note enough."

"Then I will have to disappoint. I am not planning to do much more on the Kira front. I simply joined in order to keep an eye out for potential risks for the yakuza. The zeal those fanatics show could be quite detrimental to lesser criminals. Kira might overlook them but I doubt this particular group will show such leniency."

"Hehe. But –"

The sudden knock on his door tore Raito's attention away from his companion. He was suddenly quite glad that his screen displayed nothing incriminating – for once.

"Come in."

As stiff and serious as usual, Kohashi entered his private sanctuary. "Your father requires your presence. He has a guest he would like you to meet."

Raito frowned at the request but turned on his screensaver all the same. Ryuk was making strange faces behind him.

The journey towards the living area was short and silent. It was useless to question Kohashi. His bodyguard had never been the talkative type. Professional, with a hint of resentment and distrust from the elder man's part. That was the nature of their relationship.

Still, when they reached their destination, he held the door opened for his charge. As Raito entered the ostentatious room – the only one decorated in the western style in the entire manor –, the first thing he noticed was the blond man casually sitting before the oyabun, taking slow sips out of his glass of wine.

His hair was elegantly brushed back to reveal pale blue eyes. He was dressed richly but not formally. His striped shirt was only buttoned halfway and he had pushed back his sunglasses so that they rested on top of his head. The way he lounged upon the loveseat similarly showed his relaxed state.

To feel so comfortable in the presence of a yakuza boss revealed much about his personality and life. This stranger was not one to be trifled with.

Keeping an eye on the guest, Raito took his seat at his adoptive father's side.

"Aiber-san, this is my son Raito."

"Ah… the one you've been talking about."

"Yes," was the oyabun's curt response, "Raito, Aiber-san is a good friend of some former acquaintances of mine. He came here on their behalf in order to find out more about the Kira issue."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," the mobster said, "I have heard many great things about you – about how you have dealt with the organisation's most recent threats, to say the least. I must say I am most impressed."

"Thank you." Raito answered, unconvinced of his sincerity. There was something in the other mobster's eyes, perhaps the way they followed and scrutinized him so intently. He did not like it. "But my part in the entire affair was rather minimal."

"Modesty does not make you." Aiber said, tilting his wine towards his listener and giving him a wink.

The eighteen-year-old feigned nonchalance though inside, he was slowly filling with distrust. This man was an artist of the highest sort, an actor. It did not bode well for Raito that he would covertly take so much interest in him.

Cocking his head to one side, he pretended to carefully examine the guest. "Are you French by any chance?"

Aiber blinked a few times, unable to hide his shock. Then, seeing no reason to deny his origin, he chuckled. "What clued you in? Was it my dashing looks and charming demeanour?"

Raito immediately tensed. The nerve of that stranger –

As though he would ever –

But he needed to respond before Takamiya-sama grew suspicious or Aiber noticed his unease. "French are known to be the best lovers." Feeling his adoptive father's weight at his side, he made sure to word his next statement carefully before their guest's one-sided flirting caused irreparable damage. "But now that I have met you, it seems your countrymen's reputation has been vastly exaggerated. Your gaijin parlour tricks would not work on us Japanese. We have more pride than that. However, I would be happy to introduce you to a few of the Black Dragon's establishments should you wish to relearn the tricks of the trade. What do you think father? Do you think Aiber-san will be up for it?"

Takamiya-sama gave him a fond smile while opposite to them, Aiber let out a full-blown laughter. Even Ryuk, who was not all that partial to subtleties, appeared amused by Raito's sly insult.

"Sharp tongue, sharp wit, you have raised your son well." The man's eyes had lost a great deal of its disturbing intensity.

"Yes, and I think he is right. After coming so far, I am sure you would enjoy seeing the sights. As long as you respect my rules, you would always be welcome here." The oyabun languidly rose from his seat. "Raito, why don't you accompany him? I do not doubt he has many questions on the most recent developments in our territory." He gave eighteen-year-old an affectionate pat on the shoulder and then, with one hand clutching tightly onto it, he leaned down to whisper in his adoptive son's ear. "I look forward to your formal _report _tonight."

He squeezed it once before leaving the two alone with Kohashi.

Raito felt the tension drain away from him after the reconfirmation and reaffirmation of the trust his adoptive father held for him. Now, all he needed to do was find out what Aiber truly wanted. That was not to mention the amount of research he had left unfinished in his room.

The yakuza sighed.

He was in for a long evening.

* * *

Aiber had to admit that he was impressed.

He had only been to Japan a few times and during each trip, he had of course visited its notorious red light district. He had witnessed first hand the abrupt metamorphosis those seemingly overworked, stuffy Japanese businessmen go through as they let their inhibitions go. Under Kabukicho's neon lights, their most disturbing and perverse fantasies were turned into reality.

From the most sophisticated clubs to the lowliest soaplands, Aiber had seen it all.

But for the first time, it seemed as though he had stepped into a dream world.

The hostess club Raito had founded was unlike anything he had seen before. Though its location held something to be desired, it far surpassed the most exclusive clubs set in Akasaka and Ginza – while still retaining its most important characteristics. The Mama who managed it was an elegant older woman, beautiful in the traditional Japanese sense. Her eight girls, all under the age of twenty-three, were witty, charming and most importantly, worldly.

Whichever way Aiber decided to run the conversation, they were able to follow and provide insightful new perspectives. That their comments were filled with subtle flirtation and sexual innuendo only increased their appeal.

But that, the sophistication and the quality of its employees was to be expected in such a highly esteemed club. No, it was the essence, the nature of the club itself that left its guests baffled.

The interior had entirely been modeled after a single theme: the aquatic world. The room had been set in cool shades of blue and sea green; the decorations, walls and furniture all followed the same scheme. For the most part, tiles of those shades ran a vast, but curved outline on their surface, before giving way to glass. It was all designed to not only reflect the realm underwater, but to convey a sense of calm to its clients. Businessmen came to hostess clubs to relax and this particular building's décor had cleverly been devised to fulfill this need.

Most impressive however were the aquariums. Slightly above the booths were long tanks of water where colourful fish swam. They were each connected to the large columns interspaced across the room that in turn led to either the floor or the ceiling. Thus, there were fish swimming above them and beneath them – even around them. The scenery was always changing and it was always amusing to try and follow a single clownfish make its progress through the room.

It was especially amusing, however, to see these little sea creature take a peck at the bottle of champagne that had been placed above them, on the marble and glass table.

In such a cool exotic environment, one could not help but feel at peace.

In addition, the hostesses' clothes further reinforced and embellished the club's theme. They did not pretend to be mermaids. No, nothing as crude as that.

Instead, the hostesses wore extremely thin but flowing garments that hinted to so much, but revealed very little. It only further enticed their clients, intrigued them.

All this was accompanied at times by the soothing tones of the soprano and a few live musicians. The grand piano at the center of the room was left untouched at the moment, but if ever a drunken client felt the need to express himself, his wish would easily be fulfilled.

This was a club reserved for the elite; only the elite were able to afford such an expensive pastime. This fantasy-come-true, this visit into another realm was far beyond the means of mere mortals and Aiber felt quite privileged to have visited it for free.

Still, despite the place's grandeur, it was all an illusion. The conman had easily noticed the numerous surveillance cameras hidden around the place. Though the guests had been warned of them – they were apparently needed to keep a close watch on the state of the tanks and to make sure security would be able to get there in time if a drunk client got too rowdy –, Aiber knew that most of these men would have forgotten them after only a few drinks and minutes in underwater paradise.

These prominent businessmen, politicians would unthinkingly loosen their tongue, enticed by the cunning flirtation of the hostesses. It was an excellent way to collect information and Aiber had to tip his hat to Raito for his ingeniousness.

And it was this particular brand of shrewdness he had to watch out for in his undercover mission for L. For this was Kira he was apparently dealing with and he could be killed at any moment. He could not let his admiration for the boy blind him to his deadliness. He could not allow himself to relax in his presence, despite his inclination to do so.

This was not a game.

He was currently dancing with one just as treacherous – if not more so than he. He would have to thread softly if he was to survive this particular confrontation.

* * *

Apparently, Aiber was here on behalf of the Corsican godfathers. He wanted to find out what the yakuza was doing about the Kira situation, since they and the American mafia had been the most affected.

"_Kira ne s'est pas encore intéressé à l'Union__e Corse. Ceci est probablement dû à l'absence de reportage sur le milieu, mais il va éventuellement découvrir notre existence. Nous devons nous préparer pour cette possibilité."_ _(_Kira has yet to interest itself with the Unione Corse. This is probably due to the lack of reports on the milieu but sooner or later, he will catch up to us. We will have to prepare for that eventuality._)_

Their conversation, mostly in French in order to avoid being overheard, had discussed the yakuza's own steps to avoid arousing the vigilante's interest. It had been simple, filled with empty platitudes. After all, the Black Dragon had merely decided to become a bit more subtle in its operations. It had not done anything spectacular in regards to Kira. Hence, their business has remained basically the same (though the war threatening to break out at the end of December had almost destroyed that).

There was no need for Aiber to come all this way to collect so little – and obvious – information. The Corsican godfathers themselves, or their subordinates, could have called. That he arrived so late after Kira's initial appearance was also suspicious.

"By the way," Aiber said in Japanese, with one arm draped around Aiko, "you never did tell me how you guessed my nationality."

Their conversation had long passed into such banalities.

"Your almost unnoticeable accent for one, the wine and of course, father's mention of his old acquaintances. The only one he more or less cut contact with is the milieu. Your reaction simply confirmed it."

The hostess giggled at Aiber's side and her slim finger poked his nose. "You've been had, Aiber-san." And with that, the Frenchman returned his attention towards the two ladies cocooned around him.

Thus, Raito was once again left blessedly alone with his untouched glass of champagne. Ryuk, who had always loved this establishment, was eagerly following the fish around (and scaring some too). For some odd reason, animals were actually able to notice the shinigami's presence. Whenever the monster approached his yellow eyes too much to the glass, the little creatures would scurry away, with Ryuk somehow crawling behind them. It was when the death god climbed onto a particular archway that he noticed _it_.

"C'mon! You know you'd love it! All my previous girlfriends said I was their best lover and a pretty thing like you deserves a rich powerful man like me!"

In the opposite booth, a businessman had thrown caution and propriety to the wind. He had started harassing one of his girls. She was squirming against him and though she has yet to start protesting out loud, her discomfort was clearly seen. Mayu was new. That this type of behaviour from the clientele was not permitted had yet to sink in. She did not know the lengths its owner had gone through to protect them in this dangerous trade.

A dark scowl made its way to Raito's normally impassive face as he got up from his seat and stormed past the grand piano.

"Higuchi-san, please stop! I –" The panicked cry escaped her lips as the bastard further pressed against her slim form, one hand unmercifully squeezing her breast while his teeth ravaged her neck. His other set of fingers was already up her skirt.

The expression on the yakuza's face further darkened. It was time to take out the trash.

_**April 6**__**th**__** 2004**_

* * *

**OUR LORD KIRA FORUMS - KIRA'S SHRINE - THE PROMISED REALM**

**Today, 11:13 PM - ANTI-KIRA**: _KIRIN-kun is such a scheming, manipulative bastard. I wonder what would happen if the truth came out?_

_Flattery will not save you this time._

* * *

**A/N**: I am once again _very_ sorry for the longer wait. RL's been hell. Who would have thought summer would be busier than the school year? Anyway, a relative's wedding is coming up and right afterwards, I'm leaving on a two weeks trip. I'll try to get an update before then but with the rate my writing has been going at, I doubt I'll have it done by next weekend.

Still…

Much snarkiness in this chapter and amusing play between the characters. Hope you had as much fun reading this as I had writing it (though L's been a bastard about his scenes).

So, if you want the complete translations for the French passages in the first part, check my lj. As already mentioned, I have paraphrased what was said in the following paragraphs so that isn't exactly necessary (and just plain repetitive).

And again, a _HUGE_ thank you to Recipe for Insanity who actually took time off from her vacation to beta this. I'm just so spoiled. looks guilty

And now, I shall shut up (but comments and reviews of any kind are very welcome!).

Edited 23/06/08 (Recipe for Insanity)


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